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THE 


.  CONFLICT  OF  CHEISTIANITY 
WITH  HEATHENISM  ' 

BY 

Dr.  GERHARD  UHLHORN 


ABBOT    OF    LOCCUM,   AND   MEMBER  OF  THE    SUPREME   CONSISTORY 
IN  HANOVER 


3&titt£t[  aniJ  translate?! 

WITH  THE   AUTHOR'S   SANCTION 

PROM  THE  THIRD  GERMAN  EDITION 

BY 

EGBERT   C.   SMYTH  and  C.   J.  H.   ROPES 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


1908 


/  •    '■ 


'•lain  Lite, 

HISTORr  I 


OOPTBIOHT,  1879, 
Bt  CHABLE8  SCKIBNER'8  SON! 


•  •    »    •  • 

•••, 

-•  •      •    •• 


,  •  •  • ."  •  ••  • 


PEEFAClfi. 


The  woik  of  which  a  translation  is  now  offered  to  the 
public  has  been  highly  commended  by  leading  reviews  in 
Germany,  and  has  been  received  with  much  popular  favor. 
It  has  also  been  translated  into  the  Dd,nish  and  Swedish 
languages.  Its  author's  name  is  familiar  to  scholars  through 
his  contributions  to  the  first  edition  of  Herzog's  Encyclo- 
paedia of  Protestant  Theology,  as  well  as  to  the  one  now 
issuing ;  through  his  work  on  the  Clementine  Homilies  and 
Recognitions ;  and  through  other  historical  and  apologetic 
publications,  one  of  which  has  been  translated  into  English 
by  the  Rev.  Charles  E.  Grinnell,  and  published  under  the 
title :  "  The  Modern  Representations  of  the  Life  of  Jesus.*' 
At  home  Dr.  Uhlhorn  is  known  also  as  an  eminent  preacher, 
and  as  one  of  the  most  prominent  of  the  Lutheran  clerg3\ 
Several  volumes  of  sermons  have  lately  appeared  from  his 
pen,  and  also  a  collection  of  addresses  on  important  topics 
of  religious  and  social  life. 

Gerhard  Uhlhorn  is  the  son  of  a  shoemaker,  and  was 
bom  in  Osnabriick,  Feb.  17,  1826.  From  the  gymnasium 
of  his  native  city  he  went  to  the  University  of  Gottingen, 

5 


222023 


6  FBBFACB. 

where  he  studied  theology  firom  1845  to  1848.  He  then 
became  a  private  instructor  in  the  University,  and  served 
successively  as  a  ^'  Repetent^^'  and  as  a  ''  Privatdocent^** 
until  1855.  During  this  period,  besides  preparing  and 
publishing  a  volume  of  sermons,  he  was  engaged  in  a  criti- 
cal and  thorough  study  of  the  early  Christian  history.  In 
1855  he  became  assistant  preacher  at  the  royal  Schloss- 
Kirche  in  Hanover,  and  subsequently  First  Preacher  to  the 
Court,  and  a  member  of  the  Supreme  Consistory  of  Hanover. 
In  1878  he  was  installed  as  Abbot  of  Loccum,  a  mediaeval 
Cistercian  Abbey  which,  toward  the  close  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  accepted  the  principles  of  the  Lutheran  Reforma- 
tion, and  is  now  a  Seminary  for  the  education  of  evangelical 
preachers.  Its  abbot  is  ex  officio  president  of  the  principal- 
ity of  Kalenberg,  and  at  the  head  (der  erste  Geistliche)  of 
the  Lutheran  Church  in  Hanover. 

The  subject  which  Dr.  Uhlhom  has  treated  in  the  follow- 
ing work  is  fitted  to  call  into  exercise  his  best  powers,  — his 
quick  and  broad  sympathies  with  humanity,  especially  the 
poor  and  wretched,  his  ample  and  thorough  learning,  and 
his  ability  to  clothe  his  thoughts  in  forms  fitted  to  interest 
wide  circles  of  readers.  Dr.  Channing,  in  his  Essay  on 
F^nelon,  has  recognized  the  grandeur  and  importance  of  this 
theme,  and  its  need  of  juster  treatment.  It  is  of  permanent 
and  universal  interest.  We  are  transported  to  an  ancient 
battle-field,  but  the  cause  is  our  own.  Christianity,  from  the 
beginning,  had  to  encounter  active,  skilftil  foes.  Judaism 
and  Heathenism  were  no  abstractions,  but  armed  warriors. 
The  struggle  was  a  vital  one,  —  not  a  question  of  mere 
organization,  or  subsidiary    doctrine,  but    of  the    origin, 


FBBFACB.  7 

essence,  authority,  and  power  of  the  Gospel.  The  contest 
was  also  protracted.  As  it  went  on,  all  the  forces  which 
could  be  arrayed  against  the  new  religion  had  time  to  reach 
the  field  of  conflict,  and  mingle  in  the  strife.  The  victori- 
ous Roman,  the  acute  and  versatile  Greek,  the  Oriental  theo- 
sophist,  the  Jewish  legalist,  the  power  of  the  Empire,  the 
learning  of  Alexandria,  vested  interests,  wit,  ridicule,  sar- 
casm, reverence  for  the  past,  the  pride  of  human  reason, 
the  cunning  of  covetousness,  the  accumulated  resources  of 
human  wisdom  and  human  depravity,  were  all  marshalled 
md  taxed.  A  conflict  so  real,  so  strenuous,  so  continuous 
ind  vital,  deserves  the  careful  attention  of  every  student 
>f  history  and  lover  of  truth.  And  it  has  special  claims 
in  an  age  like  our  own,  when  the  question  of  the  super- 
natural origin  and  power  of  Christianity  is  so  widely  dis- 
cussed.^ 

In  its  treatment  of  this  subject  Dr.  Uhlhom's  book  may 
be  specially  commended  in  the  following  particulars:  (i.) 
its  abundant  use  of  the  new  materials  which  have  been 
accumulated  by  the  special  investigations  of  Marquardt, 
Mommsen,  Friedlander,  Boissier,  De  Rossi,  Keim,  Overbeck, 
and  others ;  (ii.)  the  vividness  with  which  the  principles  and 

^  The  German  edition  of  this  volume  bears  the  secondary  title . 
Bilder  aus  der  Vergangenheit  als  SpiegeWilder  fur  die  Gegenwart,  Pictures 
trom  the  Past  as  Illustrations  for  the  Present.  This  resemblance  of  the 
ancient  conflict  to  the  modem  has  also  been  noticed,  on  its  Apologetic 
Bide,  by  Dr.  Shedd,  History  of  Christian  Doctrine,  vol.  i.,  p.  103;  and  by 
Mr.  Bolton  in  the  Introduction  to  his  useful  collection  and  classification 
of  the  arguments  of  "  the  Apologists  down  to  Augustine."  Mr.  Bolton 
also  sketches  the  peculiar  characteristics  of  the  earlier  contest, —t« 
Bome  of  which,  in  broader  relations,  I  have  alluded. 


8  PBEFAGB. 

progress  of  the  conflict  are  conceived,  and  the  skill  with  which 
they  are  illustrated  by  apt  citations  from  the  writings  of  those 
engaged  in  it,  and  by  the  introduction  of  striking  personal 
experiences  and  incidents  of  the  period;  (iii.)  the  success 
with  which  the  author  preserves  the  unity  of  his  theme,  and 
the  consequent  distinctness  of  impression  which  is  produced. 

If  these  merits  are  justly  attributable  to  the  original  work, 
and  are  not  seriously  impaired  in  its  translation,  it  invites 
the  attention  of  a  much  larger  number  of  readers  than  those 
who  may  be  supposed  to  have  a  professional  interest  in  its 
subject.  I  cannot  but  hope  that  it  will  prove  adapted  to 
the  wants  of  such  persons  j|  that  intelligent  laymen  will  deem 
it  not  without  freshness  and  value,  that  pastors  may  find  it 
helpful  in  their  provision  of  reading  for  some  who  may  con 
suit  them,  and  that  it  may  fill  a  useful  place  in  town  and 
village  and  parish  libraries.  I  shall  be  especially  gratified  if 
any  young  persons  who  have  not  as  yet  been  attracted  to 
the  study  of  Church  History  may  be  allured  by  this  volume 
to  these  rich  fields  of  thought  and  knowledge.  Desiring  also 
that  it  may  promote  the  study  of  this  History  in  its  sources, 
special  pains  has  been  taken  to  make  the  references  to  au- 
thorities exact  and  copious. 

The  latter  half  of  the  translation  (from  page  244) ,  with 
the  corresponding  notes,  has  been  prepared  and  edited  by 
the  Rev.  C.  J.  H.  Ropes  of  Ellsworth,  Me.  The  transla- 
tors have  endeavored  so  far  to  assimilate  their  work  that  the 
unity  of  the  original  may  not  seem  to  have  been  greatly 

impaired  in  its  English  form. 

£•  C«  S< 

AllDOVEtt  ThBOLOQIOAIi  SSMINABYt 

October,  1879. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK   FIRST. 

CHAPTER  I. 
TffF  BELIGIOUa  CONDITION  OF  THE  HEATHEN  WORLD,    ._. 

1.  The  Commingling  of  Nations  in  the  Roman  Empire  ....  13 

2.  Decline  of  Religion 29 

3.  Foreign  Rites,  and  the  Longing  for  Redemption 62 

4.  Judaism • 81 

CHAPTER  n. 
THE  MORAL  CONDITION  OF  THE  HEATHEN  WORLD, 

1.  Faith  and  Morals •    .  92 

2.  Marriage  and  Family  Life 97 

3.  Labor  and  Luxury •    • 104 

4.  Public  Games 119 

5.  Slavery 131 

6.  Th^f^d  of  Moral  Renewal 141 

CHAPTER  nL 
THE  CHRISTIANS. 

1.  The  Preaching  of  the  Gk>spel •    •    •    •  160 

2.  Worship  and  Church-Life 160 

3.  Conduct  of  the  Christians  ••• •  165 

4.  Benevolence  of  the  Christians •••••191 

6.  Martyrdom    • •••••  206 


BOO^  SECOND. 

CHAPTER  L 
THE  FIRST  ENCOUNTER. 

1.  Preliminary  Survey •••••        S17 

%  The  Persecution  under  Kero 241 


lO  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  n. 
THE  CHBISTIANS  BEFORE  THE  TRIBUNALS. 

1.  Trajan's  Legislation  against  the  Christians 261 

2.  The  Increasing  Influence  of  Christianity 264 

3.  The  Persecution  under  Marcus  Aurelius 282 

4.  The  First  Signs  of  Victory .297 


CHAPTER  m. 
THE  RE- ACTION, 

1.  The  Internal  Re-action  in  Heathenism 308 

2.  The  Internal  Re-action  in  Christianity 336 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  GENERAL  PER8E0UTI0NB, 

1.  From  Marcus  Aurelius  to  Decius 856 

2.  From  Decius  to  Gallienus 865 


BOOK   THIRD. 

CHAPTER  I. 

« 

THE  DECISIVE  STRUGGLE. 

1.  The  Work  of  the  Church  among  the  Heathen 886 

2.  The  Restoration  of  the  Empire 803 

3.  The  Persecution  under  Diocletian 407 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE  VICTORY. 420 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM,  •     ...    446 


Notes 48] 

Index        5ii 


BOOK   FIRST. 


THE  POWERS  IN  CONFLICT. 


"Greater  is  He  that  is  in  you^  than  he  that  is  in  the  world."  —  Uohn  iv.4. 


1f» 


THE  CONFLICT  OP 
CHRISTIANITY    WITH    HEATHENISM 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  RELIGIOUS  CONDITION  OP  THE   HEATHEN  WORLD. 

**Butt  when  the  fulness  of  the  time  was  come,  God  sent  forth  His  S(yn, 
made  of  a  woman.**  —  Gal.  iv.  4. 

I.    THE    COMMINGLING    OP   NATIONS   IN   THE    ROMAN   EMPIRE. 

Melito  of  Sardis,  one  of  the  earliest  Apologists,  calls 
attention  to  the  fact  that  Christianity  was  born  at  the 
same  time  with  the  Roman  Empire.^  Indeed  the  simple 
statement,  in  the  story  of  our  Lord's  birth,  of  the  de- 
cree of  taxation  issued  by  the  first  Roman  Emperor, 
affords  one  of  the  plainest  indications  that  the  fulness  of 
the  time  had  come.  The  name  of  the  Emperor  Augus- 
tus marks  the  meridian  of  the  ancient  world ;  for  the 
ancient  world  culminated  in  Rome,  and  Roman  historv 
in  the  rise  of  the  Empire.  And  just  at  this  culmina- 
tion of  the  old  world,  which  was  also  the  beginning  of 
its  decline.  He  appears  whose  coming  was  the  point  of 
transition  from  the  ancient  era  to  the  new,  the  turning- 
point  of  the  ages.  As  in  Nature  new  shoots  do  not 
first  start  when  the  plant  they  are  appointed  to  succeed 
is  wholly  dead,  but  while  it  is  still  outwardly  vigorous 
put  forth  and  grow,  feeding  upon  the  life  whose  disso- 
lution  they  hasten,   so   was   it   here.     The   Christian 

13 


l4      '  *  COMMINGLING  OF  NATIONS.  [book  i 

world  did  not  first  appear  when  the  old  world  was 
already  decayed.  To  human  eyes  at  least,  although 
destroying  forces  were  secretly  at  work,  it  still  stood  in 
full  splendor  and  bloom  when  the  germ  of  the  new  life 
was  implanted,  and  henceforth  the  progressive  decline 
of  the  old  life,  and  the  aspiring  growth  of  the  new. 
went  on  in  constant  and  reciprocal  interaction. 

The  task  of  Rome  was  to  unite,  —  to  unite,  we  maj 
say  as  confidently,  for  Christ.  Born  at  the  same  time^ 
the  Roman  Empire  and  the  Christian  Church  were  also 
providentiall}^  appointed  for  each  other.  The  kingdom 
of  heaven  is  like  a  grain  of  seed.  If  the  seed  is  to  be 
sown  the  field  must  be  prepared.  The  Roman  Empire 
was  the  prepared  field.  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like 
leaven.  If  the  leaven  is  to  be  mixed  with  the  meal,  the 
meal  must  be  shaken  together.  The  Roman  Empire  was 
the  shaken  heap  of  meal  appointed  first  of  all  to  take 
up  the  leaven.  All  the  peoples  of  the  old  world  which 
hitherto  had  lived  and  labored  apart,  all  their  gains  and 
achievements,  their  riches  and  treasures,  their  works  of 
art  and  scientific  results,  their  ancient  traditions  and 
legends,  their  gods  and  rites  of  worsliip,  all  existing 
elements  of  culture  and  forces  of  civilization,  were  now 
comprised  in  one  Empire.  Other  empires  have  ex- 
ceeded this  in  territory  and  in  population,  but  there  has 
never  been  a  second  empire  in  the  whole  course  of  his- 
tory which  so  united  in  itself  all  the  cultivated  nations 
of  its  time. 

The  establishment  of  this  kingdom  was  the  historical 
task  of  the  Romans.  Rome's  geographical  position 
gave  her  the  expectation  of  becoming  the  head  of  such 
ac  Empire.  Around  the  Mediterranean,  the  central  sea 
of  the   ancient   world,   dwelt  the   cultivated  nations. 


CHAP.  ..J  ROME'S  TASK:   CONQUEST  OF  THE  WORLD.         lb 

Far  into  the  midst  of  this  sea  projects  the  long  penin 
sula  of  Italy,  and  in  the  middle  of  this  peninsula  stood 
Rome,  the  centre  of  the  centre.  From  tliis  point  tie 
world  was  conquered  and  controlled.  For  this  were 
the  Romans  endowed.  They  were  not  a  people  of 
peace  but  of  war,  not  a  nation  of  thinkers  but  of 
deeds,  not  rich  in  arts  but  great  in  bravery  and  politi- 
cal sagacity,  equipped  with  a  rare  power  of  assimilation, 
a  marvellous  gift  for  organization,  and  a  strong  instinct 
for  legislation  and  government.  They  produced  no 
philosophical  systems,  but  they  carried  law  to  its 
highest  perfection ;  they  built  no  Parthenon,  but  they 
constructed  roads  and  bridges  to  bind  countries  to- 
gether, and  walls  and  castles  to  protect  them.  They 
were  "the  robbers  of  the  globe,"  but  in  the  divine 
counsel  their  robberies,  unknown  to  them,  had  a  higher 
purpose  of  union,  and  their  Empire,  brought  together 
by  reckless  violence,  was  constrained  by  a  superior  will 
to  serve  the  kingdom  which  Eternal  Love  has  under- 
taken to  establish  in  the  world. 

When  the  Republic  ended,  the  conquest  of  the  world 
was  at  least  substantially  accomplished.  Then  it  re- 
ceived, in  the  Emperor,  one  ruler.  From  this  point 
began  the  fusion  of  the  heterogeneous  mass  of  countries 
and  peoples  which  at  first  were  only  externally  united. 
The  first  Emperor,  Augustus,  erected  in  the  Forum  at 
Rome  a  golden  milestone.  It  stood  as  a  symbol  that 
there  was  the  centre  of  the  world.  A  net-work  of  ar- 
tificial highways,  even  then  nearly  completed,  extend- 
ed from  this  point  through  the  entire  Empire.  From 
Cadiz  in  Spain,  through  France,  through  Italy,  away 
up  to  the  Cataracts  of  the  Nile,  from  the  lands  of  the 
Danube  even  to  the  pillars  of  Hercules,  the  travellei 


16  COMMINGLING  OF  NATIONS.  [book  l 

could  journey  over  well-built  roads,  and  find  every- 
where, at  certain  distances,  mutationes  for  change  of 
horses,  and  mansiones  for  lodging  at  night.  T'lese 
roads  were  so  many  cords  binding  the  conquered  world 
to  the  centre,  Rome,  so  many  channels  for  the  impulses 
which  streamed  forth  from  it.  On  these  roads  marched 
the  legions  to  keep  under  control  a  subjugated  world, 
and  to  protect  the  boundaries ;  on  these  roads  Pro- 
consuls and  Praetors  went  into  the  provinces  to  ad- 
minister law  and  justice,  and  swift  couriers  bore  the 
edicts  of  the  Emperor  to  the  extreme  circumference  of 
the  broad  Empire;  over  these  highways  commerce 
moved,  and  Romans  of  distinction  journeyed  to  gain 
knowledge  of  the  world;  over  these  highways,  too, 
went  the  messengers  of  the  Gospel,  bearing  from  city 
to  city  the  jo}^ul  tidings  of  a  manifested  Redeemer. 

A  vast  interchange  now  began  tlirough  the  entire 
Empire.  Hitherto  War  alone  had  brought  men  to- 
gether ;  now  for  the  first  time  this  was  accomplishe^d  by 
Peace.  For  after  the  fearful  assaults  and  revolutions 
of  the  Civil  Wars  the  Empire  was  really  peace ;  "  Now 
land  and  sea  are  safe,  and  cities  flourish  in  concord  and 
peace,"  exults  an  inscription  in  honor  of  Augustus. 
"All  which  has  hitherto  been  concealed  comes  now 
into  general  use,"  says  Pliny.  And  Philo :  "  The  nox- 
ious elements  are  driven  to  the  remotest  distances,  the 
salutary  are  gathered  together  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth  into  the  Empire  of  the  world."  ^  To  be  sure,  as 
compared  with  the  commercial  intercourse  of  to-da-^ 
that  of  the  Roman  world  was  but  small.  The  imports, 
for  example,  from  Asia  into  England  from  1861  to 
1869  amounted  annually,  on  an  average,  to  nearly 
seventy  millions  of  dollars,  while  the  entire  Roman  Eed 


CHAP.  I. J  LNTERCOURSE  IN  THE  EMPIRE.  17 

pire,  according  to  an  estimate  found  in  Pliny,  made  use 
of  only  about  five  and  a  quarter  million  dollars'  worth 
of  merchandise  from  the  East.  Yet,  in  comparison 
with  earlier  times,  traffic  very  largely  increased  during 
the  age  of  the  Emperors,  and  was  of  more  importance 
in  bringing  the  nations  nearer  together  because  mer- 
cantile intercourse  was  much  more  personal  then  than 
aow.  Like  the  great  commercial  cities  of  the  East,  — 
A'exandria,  Antioch,  Ephesus,  Smyrna,  Corinth, — 
Rome  was  a  centre  of  traffic,  as  no  city  has  been  before 
or  since.  Every  thing  rushed  to  Rome.  Whoever  had 
any  thing  in  art  or  science  whose  claims  he  wished  to 
have  recognized,  whoever  hoped  to  gain  any  thing  by 
being  near  persons  in  power,  whoever  sought  his  rights 
in  the  highest  tribunal  of  appeal,  whoever  expected 
through  honest  business,  or  even  through  adventure 
and  fraud,  to  become  rich,  or  whoever  had  obtained 
wealth  and  wished  to  see  with  liis  own  eyes  the  wonders 
of  the  capital,  and  to  share  in  the  pleasures  and  luxu- 
ries which  it  afforded,  went  to  Rome.  On  the  streets 
of  this  matchless  imperial  city  met  the  finely  cultured 
Greek  who  sought  here  the  sources  for  some  history, 
and  the  half  educated  provincial  who  would  gladlj^ 
pass  for  a  genuine  Roman ;  the  Alexandrian  merchant, 
brought  here  by  the  corn  trade,  and  the  half  savage 
African  who  perchance  had  come  with  an  invoice  of 
lions  for  the  next  hunting-show ;  the  wily  Syrian  who 
hoped  to  propagate  the  worship  of  a  new  god,  or  sold 
amulets  and  charms,  and  the  Gaul  who,  proud  of  the 
Roman  citizenship  recently  presented  to  him,  offered 
his  homage  to  the  eternal  city ;  the  Jew  who  for  the 
sake  of  seme  pecuniary  gain,  or  even  to  win  proselytes, 
shunned  not  the  long  journey,  and  the  Illyrian  and 
Tliracian  who  followed  the  Roman  eagles. 


18  COMMINGLING  OF  NATIONS.  [book  i 

The  current  toward  Rome  had  a  corresponding  one 
outward  into  the  provinces  which,  no  less  th&n  the 
other,  promoted  the  fusion  of  the  nations.  The  admin- 
istrative officers  who  went  forth  to  govern  the  con- 
quered lands  in  accordance  with  Roman  laws,  the 
knights  who  were  drawn  to  the  provinces  by  their 
financial  operations,  the  armies  and  the  colonies  which 
Rome  sent  forth,  all  promoted  that  great  process  of 
assimilation  which  was  now  accomplishing  with  astonish- 
ing rapidity.  In  its  numerous  colonies  Rome  extended 
itself  into  the  provinces.  They  were  a  part  of  Rome 
in  the  midst  of  Spain,  Gaul,  or  Greece.  The  colonists 
carried  with  them  their  right  of  citizenship  and  their 
Roman  law.  Often  foreigners  were  received  into  the 
colony,  and  even  when  they  formed  within  it  a  separate 
community  they  still  came  under  the  constant  influence 
of  the  Roman  spirit.  The  stations  of  the  legions  on  the 
Rhine  and  in  Syria,  in  Britain  and  on  the  Danube,  were 
so  many  points  of  support  for  this  Romanizing  process. 
And  since  the  legions  were  obliged  to  recruit  them- 
selves increasingly  from  the  provinces,  they  were  con- 
sequently all  the  more  a  school  of  civilization,  especially 
as  it  was  a  principle  never  to  station  auxiliary  troops 
in  their  native  cantons.  Separated  from  the  soil  of 
their  birth  by  long  years  of  military  service,  the  stran- 
gers became  Romans,  and  regarded  Roman  citizenship 
as  their  highest  reward.  How  rapidly  this  transforma- 
lion  was  accomplished  in  the  provinces  can  be  seen  in 
the  case  of  Britain.  This  country  was  re-occupied  in  the 
year  43.  Tacitus  gives  us  a  description  of  it  in  the  ye'dv 
61.  How  changed  is  every  thing  in  these  eighteen  yeai's ! 
A  net-work  of  camps  and  castles  stretches  over  the 
conquered   Southern    part,  individual   chieftains    have 


UHAT.  1  f  PROGRESSIVE  ASSIMILATION.  1?> 

wholly  adopted  Roman  manners,  and  govern  as  pre- 
fects; the  bloody  Druid  worship  is  exterminated, 
Roman  customs  are  diffused ;  the  colony  of  Camulodu- 
num  (Colchester)  has  grown  to  an  important  city,  in 
the  midst  of  which  rises  a  temple  of  Divus  Claudius. 
We  find  circuses,  theatres,  marble  goddesses  of  victory. 
Londinium  is  an  influential  commercial  city,  where  the 
fabrications  of  Roman  industry  and  the  products  of 
Gaul  find  a  market,  and  the  people  are  already  accus- 
tomed to  Italian  pleasures. 

This  assimilation  to  Rome  would  naturally  advance 
more  rapidly  and  powerfully  in  countries  hitherto  pos- 
sessed of  little  or  no  culture.  Spain,  Gaul,  North 
Africa,  soon  became  wholly  Romanized.  It  was  other- 
wise in  the  East.  Rome  met  in  Greece  a  higher  culture 
than  its  own.  Externally  the  conqueror,  it  became 
inwardly  more  and  more  subjugated  by  the  Greek  mind. 
What  France  once  was  to  Europe,  Greece  was  at  that 
time  to  the  world.  As  philosophers  and  rhetoricians, 
as  schoo) -masters  and  physicians,  as  artists  and  artisans, 
even  as  men-servants  and  maid-servants,  numerous 
Greeks  came  to  Italy  and  Rome  and  diffused  there  the 
Greek  language  and  philosophy,  Greek  morality  and 
immorality.  Conversely,  it  soon  became  a  mark  of 
hon  ton  to  visit  the  seats  of  ancient  Greek  culture.  As 
in  the  last  century  people  went  to  Paris  to  receive  the 
Snest  polish,  so  throngs  of  youths  went  to  Athens,  oi 
even  to  Rhodes  and  Marseilles,  to  become  acquainted 
with  Hellenic  science  and  art,  often  enough  too  witlj 
Hellenic  excesses.  Already  gaining  ground  toward  the] 
end  of  the  Republic,  Hellenism  made  more  and  more 
rapid  progress  in  the  time  of  the  Emperors,  especialh 
under  Nero. 


20  COMMINGLING  OF  NATIONS.  [book  i. 

Thus  Roman  civilization,  while  it  conquered  the 
world,  became  itself  more  and  more  imbued  with  that 
of  Greece.  From  this  confluence  of  two  streams  issued 
a  third,  a  new  one,  neither  old  Roman  nor  ancient 
Greek,  but  Grceco-Roman ;  and  it  was  this  Grseco- 
Roman  culture  which,  adjusting  the  old  distinctions, 
filled  the  great  Empire.  Latin,  indeed,  was  the  popu 
lar  language  only  in  the  Western  provinces,  almost  sup 
planting  there  the  old  native  tongues ;  yet  it  was  under 
stood,  as  the  speech  of  the  dominant  race,  even  in 
Palestine  and  on  the  Nile.  More  nearly  even  than 
Latin  was  Greek  raised  to  the  rank  of  a  universal  lan- 
guage. Whoever  spoke  it  could  count  upon  being  able 
to  make  himself  understood  everywhere  in  the  East 
and  in  the  West.  In  the  Common  Law  Rome  gave  the 
world  another  bond  of  union,  whose  influence  became 
more  powerful  in  proportion  as  it  was  developed.  On 
this  firm  basis  the  world  became  more  and  more  accus- 
tomed to  the  same  forms  of  social  life. 

The  East,  true  to  the  stable  character  it  still  pre- 
serves, adhered  most  firmly  to  its  peculiarities.  And 
though  the  Hellenized  cities,  Antioch,  Nicomedia,  above 
all  Alexandria,  were  influential  supporters  of  the 
Grseco-Roman  culture,  still  the  transformation  in  these 
regi'^ns  was  far  less  complete  than  in  the  West.  The 
Oriental  indeed  should  be  recognized  as  a  third  element 
with  the  Roman  and  the  Grecian,  especially  in  the 
sphere  of  religion,  it  being  faintly  discernible  from  the 
beginning  of  the  time  of  the  Emperors,  and  more  and 
more  clearly  so  in  the  second  and  third  centuries 
While  the  Roman  spirit  ruled  in  the  domain  of  govern- 
ment and  law,  and  the  Greek  in  that  of  art  and  science, 
the  Oriental  impressed  itself  upon  religious  life.     Thus 


THAP.  i.J  RISE  OF  COSMOPOLITANISM.  21 

this  part  of  the  mighty  Empire  had  a  share  in  its  inter- 
nal growth,  and  one  all  the  more  important  since  the 
real  and  highest  end  for  which  this  Empire  existed 
must  be  sought  for  in  religious  development. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  suggest  what  aids  to  religious 
progress,  particularly  to  the  extension  of  Christianity, 
these  facts  imply.  A  religious  impulse  given  at  one 
point  now,  was  no  longer  in  danger  as  it  might  have 
been  centuries  earlier,  of  perishing  in  the  little  circle 
of  an  isolated  people.  If  it  only  had  sufficient  power 
it  easily  propagated  itself  through  the  entire  Empire. 
It  no  longer  found  anywhere  a  limit.  The  abundant 
means  of  communication,  the  wide-spread  understanding 
of  the  two  leading  languages,  Latin  and  Greek,  the 
community  of  interests,  the  common  law,  the  greatly 
increased  similarity  of  social  customs  and  forms,  all 
came  to  its  aid.  We  need  only  glance  at  the  life  and 
labors  of  Paul  to  find  this  everywhere  confirmed.  A 
missionary  activity  like  his  was  possible  only  in  an 
Empire  like  the  Roman. 

But  none  of  these  particulars,  however  important 
each  may  be,  is  of  chief  moment.  Of  infinitely  more 
consequence  is  it  that  there  was  now  developing  in  the 
Roman  Empire  a  Universalism  hitherto  entirely  un- 
known, the  first  step  to  the  Universalism  of  Chris- 
tianity. At  no  point  does  the  providential  significance 
of  the  Roman  Empire  stand  forth  more  strikingly  thaa 
iiere. 

The  human  race  develops  as  nations  in  the  Christian 
era,  as  well  as  in  the  pre-Christian.  "  God  hath  de- 
termined the  times  before  appointed  and  the  bounds 
of  their  habitation."  With  this  word  St.  Paul,  in  hia 
discourse  at  Athens,  gives  us  a  glimpse  into  the  divine 


22  COMMINGLING   OF  NATIONS.  [book  I 

goverument  and  guidance  of  the  nations  of  which  thej^ 
themselves  are  unconscious.  But  in  the  times  before 
Christ,  the  significance  of  nationality  was  entirely  unlike 
what  it  has  been  since.  In  the  ancient  era  the  nations 
were  strictly  separated  from  each  other.  Each  nation 
lived  for  itself  and  labored  for  itself.  There  was  no  com- 
mon work  of  civilization  in  which  the  nations  recipro 
cally  supplemented  each  other,  and  together  made  prog 
ress  in  a  common  development ;  but  rather,  one  nation 
transmitted  its  work  to  another  to  be  continued  by  it, 
the  Oriental  nations  to  the  Greeks,  and  they  to  the 
Romans.  In  the  modern  era,  on  the  contrary,  nations 
are  interdependent.  No  one  is  the  sole  possessor  of 
culture,  so  that  all  the  rest  must  repair  to  it.  Each 
shares  in  the  work  of  civilization,  and  all  mutually  give 
and  receive.  Though  distinct  as  States,  and  though 
each  preserves  its  own  individuality,  their  culture  is  a 
common  one.  Nations  which  have  a  Christian  civiliza- 
tion are  united  as  members  of  a  graat  whole.  And 
their  inner  bond  of  union,  however  little  inclination 
there  may  be  in  many  quarters  to-day  to  recognize  this, 
is  in  reality  their  common  Christianity.  Rome  is  the 
connecting  link  between  these  two  forms  of  national 
life,  the  transition  from  one  to  the  other.  In  the  ancient 
era  we  have  only  distinct  nationalities,  no  unity;  in 
the  modern  era  distinct  nationalities,  yet  above  them  a 
unity.  In  Rome,  there  were  no  longer  distinct  nation- 
alities, for  all  were  outwardly  comprised  in  one  State ; 
yet  a  real  inward  unity,  a  common  bond  was  still  want^ 
ing,  —  it  had  yet  to  be  developed. 

In  the  Roman  Empire  the  old  nationalities  declined 
more  and  more ;  not  merely  those  of  conquered  nations, 
but  that  of  Rome  as  weU.     The  old  Roman  families 


CHAP    I.]      DECLINE  OF  THE  OLD  NATIONALITIES.  23 

died  out;  provincials  took  their  places;  and  soon  tLs 
Emperors,  too,  were  from  the  provinces.  Romans  and 
nou-Romans  came  to  be  regarded  as  equals,  and  the 
Roman  right  of  citizenship  was  shared  by  provin- 
cials in  an  ever-widening  circle.  As  ancient  Roman 
art  and  morality  had  degenerated,  so  also  had  the  old 
Greek  character.  The  Greek  spirit  in  its  purity  with- 
drew ;  Hellenism  took  its  place.  The  Roman  colony 
Corinth  surpassed  Athens,  the  Hellenized  cities  of 
Asia  Minor  were  more  important  centres  than  the 
ancient  seats  of  culture  in  Greece  itself.  More  fully 
still  did  the  subject  nations  of  the  West  give  up  their 
nationality. 

Since  all  development  took  a  purely  national  course, 
a  certain  narrowness  adhered  to  ancient  life.  Modera- 
tion was  the  chief  virtue  of  Antiquity.  In  it  was 
rooted  the  artistic  sense  of  the-  old  Greek,  as  well  as 
the  strict  virtue  of  the  old  Roman.  This  narrowness 
now  disappeared.  Through  the  magnificent  intercourse 
and  interchange  of  the  universal  Empire,  national  con- 
sciousness expanded  into  one  which  was  world-wide. 
In  all  departments  of  life  there  was  manifested  a  free- 
dom from  restraints  which  resulted  in  a  disappear- 
ance of  the  old  established  forms,  in  a  widening  of  view 
and  of  the  entire  circle  of  thought.  The  sharply  dis- 
ci iminated  philosophical  systems  lost  their  distinctive 
peculiarities.  A  practical  philosophy  was  developed, 
which,  far  inferior  in  acuteness  and  logical  consistency 
to  the  earlier,  obtained  for  this  very  reason  far  wider 
acceptance.  The  styles  of  art  commingled.  Giecian 
finish  and  Oriental  massiveness  met  in  the  colossai 
edifices  of  the  Empire.  But  when  purity  of  art  waa 
thus  lost,  and  the  Age  could  no  longer  rival  the  crea 


24  COMMlJNGLiJSU   Ob    JSATIONS.  [book  i 

tions  of  classic  time,  art  gained  instead  a  diifusioii  nevei 
before  attained.  Never  before  nor  since,  has  the  world 
been  so  opulent  in  treasures  of  art.  To  say  nothing  of 
Rome,  even  provincial  cities  so  abounded  in  lofty  edi- 
rices,  statues,  and  other  works  of  sculpture,  as  greatly 
to  exceed  those  of  our  cajjitals  which  are  richest  in 
such  treasures.  Never  again  has  art  so  penetrated 
men's  homes,  adorning  even  all  the  utensils  of  daily 
life,  and  its  entire  environment.  In  the  countries  oa 
the  Danube,  and  on  the  Rhine,  manufactories  of  earthen 
ware  copied  Grecian  patterns ;  and  the  streets  and  pub- 
lic places  of  Roman  colonial  cities,  in  the  midst  of 
barbarous  nations,  were  adorned  with  imitations  of 
works  of  Grecian  art  whose  originals,  perchance,  graced 
some  place  or  palace  in  Rome. 

Culture,  in  a  word,  now  tended  to  become  universal. 
Numerous  schools  afforded  to  multitudes  opportunities 
for  knowledge  hitherto  available  to  only  a  few.  The 
cheapness  of  books,  and  easily  accessible  public  libra- 
ries, subserved  the  same  end.  Martial  speaks  of  books 
which  cost  four  or  six  sesterces,  a  trifle  more  than 
twenty  or  thirty  cents.'  The  equivalent  of  a  page  of 
print  cost  from  about  two  to  two  and  a  half  cents. 
The  diffusion  of  books  was  also  great.  Pliny  expresses 
pleasure  that  his  works  are  sold  by  booksellers  in 
Lyons.  Already  in  Rome  Csesar  had  projected  the  plan 
of  establishing  a  library.  Asinius  Pollio  carried  it  into 
effect,  founding  in  the  temple  of  Liberty  the  first  public 
libraiy  of  Rome.  Augustus  established  two  others,  to 
which  a  great  number  were  afterwards  added.  Learn- 
ing became  somewhat  encyclopyedic ;  an  educated  man 
was  expected  to  be  well-informed  upon  all  subjects- 
Every  branch   of  knowledge  was  cultivated,  Grammar, 


CHAP.  I.]  EXTENSION  OF  CULTURE.  25 

Antiquities,  Agriculture,  and  tlie  science  of  war.  Char- 
acteristic uf  llie  times  was  the  special  attention  paid  to 
Universal  History  and  Geography.  The  view  became 
broader,  and  whereas  the  ancient  Greek  or  Roman 
cared  only  for  his  own  people  and  land,  the  Roman  of 
the  age  of  the  Emperors  was  interested  in  every  thing, 
in  foreign  nations  and  countries,  in  the  plants  and  ani- 
mals of  distant  zones.  In  Rome  unknown  animals  and 
other  curiosities  from  far  off  lands  were  exhibited  as 
shows  to  great  throngs.  Even  the  Emperors  provided 
such  sights.  Successful  attempts  were  made  to  acclima- 
tize foreign  plants  and  animals.  The  natural  products 
of  different  countries  were  also  interchanged.  South- 
ern fruits  were  transplanted  to  Rome,  and  still  farther 
towards  the  North.  In  this  way  Gaul  received  the 
cultivation  of  the  olive  and  vine.  Journeys  became 
the  fashion.  Whoever  had  not  seen  Greece,  and  visited 
the  East,  whoever  had  not  been  in  Athens  and  Alexan- 
dria, hardly  counted  among  persons  of  education ;  and 
just  as  we  have  to-day  our  guide-books  for  Italy  and 
Switzerland,  so  had  the  Roman  tourist  his  guide-book 
which  pointed  out  all  the  various  sights  and  designated 
the  temples,  statues,  pictures,  antiquities,  which  were 
of  special  interest.  We  see  this  fondness  for  travels, 
also,  in  the  literature  of  romance ;  whose  appearance  is 
itself  a  sign  of  the  altered  spirit  of  the  age.  It  de- 
Lighted  in  narrating  fictitious  journeys;  and  "the  in- 
credible things  beyond  Thule,"  or  the  like,  were  eagerly 
read. 

It  has  been  disputed  whether  this  whole  development 
lihould  be  considered  a  decline  or  an  advance.  Men 
even  of  that  time  had  a  clear  presentiment  that  Rome 
then  stood  at  the   height  of  its  prosperity,  and  so  at 


26  COMMINGLING  OF  NATIONS.  Lboor  i 

the  beginning  of  its  decline.  "Heaven  gnjit  that  1 
may  prove  a  false  prophet,  but  I  see  Rome,  proud 
Rome,  fall  a  victim  to  its  own  prosperity,"  says  Proper- 
tins,*  and  Tacitus  saw  with  a  ken  truly  prophetic  that 
the  Germans  would  destroy  Rome.  Their  freedom 
jieomed  to  him  more  dangerous  than  the  power  of  the 
Parthians.*^  Yet  the  controversy  over  the  question  of 
decline  or  progress  is  needless.  Certainly  that  age,  as 
compared  with  the  palmy  days  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
was  one  of  decline.  It  was  no  longer  productive  as 
before.  Feeling  and  reflection  were  stronger  than 
energy  of  will.  Nothing  strictly  new  was  produced. 
But  must  not  the  blossom  fall  before  the  fruit  can 
ripen?  Even  if  the  commingling  of  nations,  as  of 
philosophical  systems  and  of  styles  of  art,  which  was 
accomplishing  in  the  time  of  the  Emperors,  was  a  de- 
cline, it  was  also,  as  opposed  to  the  earlier  exclusive- 
ness,  a  salutary  result  of  the  mutual  intercourse  which 
was  taking  place.  This  widening  of  view,  of  thought, 
of  interest,  beyond  the  former  narrowness,  was  no 
longer,  it  is  true,  the  genuine  ancient  life,  and  neither  a 
Sophocles  nor  a  Phidias,  neither  a  Pericles  nor  a  Scipio, 
could  then  have  arisen;  yet  who  will  deny  that  this 
expansion  of  knowledge,  this  general  diffusion  of  art 
was  also  a  progress?  For  do  not  Science  and  Art 
exist  for  this  very  purpose  that  as  many  as  possible 
may  enjoy  their  fruits  ?  Least  of  all  can  it  be  denied 
that  this  entire  Universalism  then  developing  was  the 
fii'st  step  to  the  modern  Christian  era.  Antic^uity  went 
beyond  itself  and  reached  out  its  hands  to  the  ne 
epoch.  Itself  passing  out  from  the  ancient  narrowness 
into  a  world-wide  breadth  of  thought  and  life,  the  old 
world  became  capable  Universalism  of 


CHA/".  I.J  CHBISTIA  M   UNIVEKbALISM.  21 

Chiistianity.  The  thought  of  a  religion  not  national 
but  for  all  laces  would  have  recoiled  from  the  rocky 
masses  of  the  unbroken  nationalities  of  an  earlier  age. 
Now,  when  the  old  nationalities  were  demolished,  the 
thought  of  a  kingdom  of  God  embracing  all  nations 
could  strike  root,  and  the  idea  of  a  universal  Church, 
which  would  have  been  entirely  unintelligible  to  an 
ancient  Greek  or  Roman,  was  to  the  Roman  of  the  age 
of  the  Emperors,  though  still  strange,  no  longer  incom- 
prehensible now  that  in  the  Empire  he  had  before  his 
eyes  a  universal  kingdom. 

All  this,  indeed,  was  nothing  more  than  preparation. 
The  old  world  was  not  able  to  produce  from  itself  a 
Christian  universalism.  The  result  of  that  great  pro- 
cess of  comminution  which  was  wrought  out  in  the  vast 
Roman  Empire  was  only  uniformity,  not  true  unity. 
True  unity  presupposes  diversity.  It  is  a  comprehen- 
sion of  the  manifold  under  a  higher  principle  of  organi- 
zation. Here  we  encounter  a  limitation  which  was 
insuperable  to  the  old  world.  It  lacked  the  thought  of 
Humanity,  and  since  it  knew  not  the  whole,  it  could 
not  rightly  appreciate  the  parts.  The  unity  of  man- 
kind, and  the  organization  of  the  entire  race  in  nations, 
—  the  great  truths  which  Paul  preached  in  Athens,  the 
centre  of  ancient  wisdom,  —  were  hidden  from  it. 
Therefore  the  meaning  of  nationality  was  not  rightly 
imderstood.  At  first  it  was  exaggerated.  There  was 
(mly  national  life,  and  nothing  more.  Afterwards  it  was 
undervalued.  In  the  Roman  Empi^  the  various  nation- 
alities failed  to  obtain  their  just  rights.  They  were 
completely  lost  in  the  great  whole.  The  result  was, 
not  a  living  universalism  but  only  a  shadowy  one,  an 
abstract  cosmopolitanism  which  did  not  know  how  tc 


28  COMMINGLING  OF  NATIONS.  [boo»  i 

appreciate   the  meaning   of   nationality  as  a   compact 
organism. 

The  ultimate  reason  lies  deeper.  There  was  no  reli- 
gious unity.  That  which  to-day  holds  cultivated  na- 
tions in  unity,  notwithstanding  all  their  diversity,  is 
their  common  Christianity.  Were  this  taken  away 
their  development  in  culture  would  gradually  di\erge, 
and  the  nations  would  again,  as  in  ancient  times, 
confront  each  other  as  enemies,  —  unless,  indeed,  power 
were  given  to  one  of  them  to  force  them  all  into  one 
empire.  This,  in  many  quarters  to-day,  will  not  be 
conceded.  Appeal  is  made  to  the  multiplied  means  of 
communication  which  now  exist,  and  the  consequent 
approximation  of  nations.  Stress  is  laid  on  their  com- 
mon culture,  conceived  of  wholly  apart  from  religion, 
—  as  if  outward  union  could  of  itself  create  community 
of  life  !  as  if  the  kernel  of  this  entire  common  culture 
were  not  their  Christianity!  The  thought  of  a  hu- 
manity whose  members  are  nations,  is  only  possible 
where  there  is  faith  in  one  God  and  one  Redeemer. 
As  long  as  Polytheism  rules,  as  long  also  as  religion 
is  purely  national,  humanity  is  split  up  into  a  multitude 
of  nationalities  rigidly  secluded  from  each  other.  Even 
the  Universalism  of  the  Roman  Empire  was  possible 
only  because,  in  its  religious  development,  a  monotheis- 
tic tendency  had  already  begun  even  within  the  limits 
of  paganism,  —  a  tendency  to  be  sure  which  could  not 
advance  beyond  a  sliadowy  Monotheism.  The  abstract 
pantheistic  Deit}^  which  was  the  result  of  tMs  tendency 
corresponds  exactly  to  the  abstract,  and  pantheistically 
colored,  cosmopolitanism  which  took  the  place  of  the 
earlier  and  vigorous  consciousness  of  distinct  nation- 
ality.    When,  instead   of  a  dead  deity,  was  preached 


CHAP.  I.]  RELIGIOUS  LIFE  OF  AN:riQUITr.  29 

the  living  God,  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth,  the  Father 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  then  for  the  first  time  hu- 
manity was  able  to  advance  from  this  abstract  cosmo- 
politanism into  the  true  Universalism  which  rules  the 
Christian  era. 

This  brings  us  to  the  religious  condition  of  the  Age 
of  the  Emperors.^ 

II.     DECLINE   OF  RELIGION. 

After  Paul  had  gone  through  Athens  observing  with 
attentive  eye  the  life,  and  especially  what  was  to  him 
of  deepest  interest,  the  religious  life  of  the  renowned 
city,  he  summed  up  in  the  opening  of  his  discourse 
the  impression  he  had  received  in  the  phrase  which 
Luther  translates,  somewhat  inaccurately,  "  allzu  aber- 
glaubig"  (too  superstitious),  but  which,  no  doubt, 
would  be  more  correctly  rendered,  "too  god-fearing" 
or  "deity-fearing,"  A  survey  of  the  religious  life  of 
the  Roman  Empire  must  produce  the  same  impression. 
What  a  host  of  gods  and  goddesses  whom  the  nations 
serve,  how  countless  the  temples  and  holy  places 
adorned  with  vast  wealth  and  the  glory  of  art,  how 
endlessly  varied  the  rites  and  forms  of  worship !  In 
fact  no  reproach  would  be  more  unjust  than  to  call  the 
old  world  irreligious.  LOn  tho  contrary  Christians,  to 
the  heathen,  must  have  seemed  irreligious;  and  often 
enough  were  they  thus  reproached,  be  3ause  they  had 
no  -feligious  ceremonies  like  those  to  wl  ich  the  heathen 
were  accustomed  daily,  and  hourly,  and  at  every  step 
of  life.  The  whole  world  was  full  of  gods.  Their 
temples  rose  in  all  places,  —  large  and  splendid  edifices 
and  little  chapels,  in  cities  and  vilages,  in  field  and 
forest,  on  the  verge  of  the  wilderness  and  on  the  sum- 


80  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  lBOO«  i 

mit  of  the  Great  St.  Bernard  pass,  where  a  temple  of 
Jupiter^  invited  the  traveller  who  had  come  thus  far 
to  offer  thanksgivings  and  vows  for  a  safe  return  home. 
"Our  country  is  so  peopled  with  gods,"  Petronius 
makes  a  woman  from  Campania  say,  "  that  it  is  easier 
to  find  a  god  there  than  a  man."  ^  Or  there  were  at 
least  sacred  trees,  stones,  rocks  which  were  decked  by 
heathen  piety  with  garlands  and  ribbons,  and  which  no 
one  passed  by  without  some  sign  of  reverence.  The 
entire  life  was  permeated  by  religion. 

The  State  was  founded  upon  religion.  It  was  yery 
well  understood  that  there  must  be  something  which 
binds  the  conscience  and  disposes  men  freely  to  obey 
the  laws.  This  was  faith  in  the  gods,  in  Providence, 
in  retributive  justice.  "  Sooner,"  says  Plutarch,^  "  may 
a  city  exist  without  houses  and  ground,  than  a  State 
without  faith  in  the  gods.  This  is  the  bond  of  union, 
the  support  of  all  legislation."  Polybius  praises  the 
Romans  especially  for  their  piety.  "  Among  them," 
he  says,  "  the  administration  of  public  funds  is  more 
secure  by  means  of  the  oath  than  elsewhere  through 
the  most  extensive  system  of  checks."  ^"  At  every  im- 
portant public  transaction  the  gods  were  consulted, 
sacrifices  offered,  and  religious  rites  observed ;  every 
assembly  of  the  people  was  opened  with  prayer.  Au- 
gustus made  an  express  decree  that  every  senator, 
before  he  took  his  place,  should  go  to  the  altar  of  the 
deity  in  whose  temple  the  assembly  was  held,  and 
offer  a  libation,  and  strew  incense."  Down  even  to 
the  last  days  of  the  Republic  it  was  the  looking  up  to 
the  ancestral  deities  which  inspired  the  army.  I  When, 
before  a  battle,  Pompey  spoke  to  his  soldiers  of  the  art 
of   war  they  remained  unmoved,  but  when   Cato  re" 


CHAP,  i  J         LOCAL  RITES.     DOMESTIC  DEITIES  31 

minded  them  of  the  dii  patrii  (thbugh  himself  without 
faith  in  them),  he  inflamed  the  whole  army,  and  the 
battle  was  a  victory.  An^  as  the  entire  State,  so  also 
every  community,  every  city,  every  circle  of  cities,  had 
its  special  cult,  well-founded  institutions,  rich  and  dis* 
tinguished  colleges  for  priests,  and  special  feast-days 
and  sacrifices.  Every  province,  every  city,  every  vil- 
lage, honored  with  local  rites  its  protecting  divinity, 
and  everywhere  the  various  religious  observances  were 
most  intimately  connected  with  the  civil  constitution 
of  the  community  and  sustained  by  local  patriotism. 
I  •  In  the  same  way  all  domestic  and  family  life  had  a 
religious  tone.  Each  period  of  life,  every  important 
event,  was  celebrated  with  religious  services.  Though 
the  names  of  the  numerous  deities  who  are  mentioned  as 
presiding  over  domestic  life  designate  rather  functions 
of  the  deity  than  divine  beings  conceived  of  as  hav- 
ing independent  existence,  yet  these  very  names  afford 
proof  of  what  has  just  been  stated.  There  was  the 
goddess  Lucina  who  watched  over  the  birth  of  a  child ; 
Candelifera  in  whose  honor  at  such  a  time  candles  were 
lighted;  Rumina  who  attended  to  its  nursing;  Nun- 
lina  who  was  invoked  on  the  ninth  day  when  the  name 
was  given ;  Potina  and  Educa  who  acc^^stomed  it  to  food 
and  drink.  The  day  when  the  child  first  stepped  upon 
the  ground  was  consecrated  to  Statina ;  Abeona  taught 
it  to  walk :  Farinus  to  lisp ;  Locutinus  to  talk ;  Cunina 
averted  from  it  the  evil  enchantments  lying  in  the 
cradle.  There  was  a  god  of  the  door  (Forculas),  a. god 
of  the  threshold  (Limentinus),  a  goddess  of  the  hinges 
(Cardea).  There  was  a  god  for  the  blind  (Caeculus), 
a  goddess  for  the  childless  (Orbana).^^  "Even  the 
biothels,"    exclaims  Tertullian,  "and   cook-shops  and 


32  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  [book  i 

prisons  have  their  gods."  ^'  Every  household  festival 
was  at  the  same  time  a  divine  service ,  each  class  had 
its  gods  whom  it  invoked,  and  from  whom  it  expected 
help  and  protection  in  its  work.  ^  From  the  niche  of  a 
rafter,  Epona,  the  goddess  of  horses,  looked  down  upon 
the  stable  ;  on  the  ship  stood  the  image  of  Neptune ;  tho 
merchants  prayed  to  Mercury  for  successful  bargains. 
All  tillage  of  the  soil  began  with  prayer.  Before  har- 
vest a  pig  was  sacrificed  to  Ceres,  and  the  labor  of  fell- 
ing a  forest  was  not  commenced  until  pardon  had  been 
supplicated  from  the  unknown  gods  who  might  inhabit 
it.i* 

This  whole  rich  religious  life  of  the  ancient  world 
makes  at  once  an  impression  of  the  greatest  variety. 
What  diversity  wherever  we  observe  it,  whether  on  the 
shores  of  the  Nile  or  the  Orontes,  in  the  cities  of  Greece 
or  at  the  Roman  Capitol.  How  entirely  different  were 
the  gods  invoked  by  the  Egyptian  and  Syrian,  the 
Greek  and  the  Roman.i^ 

The  Orient  degraded  the  deity  to  the  level  of  Nature 
A  materialistic  tendency  pervaded  the  religions  of 
Egypt  and  Anterior  Asia.  Therefore  they  found  so 
many  adherents  in  the  materialistic  age  of  the  Emperors. 
Sexual  life,  procreation,  and  death,  were  attributed  to 
deity,  and  consequently  the  service  of  these  monstrous 
beings  was  on  the  one  hand  gloomy  and  stern,  dark  and 
cruel,  as  they  themselves,  and  on  the  other  full  of  in- 
toxicating pleasure.  Moloch  delighted  in  the  agonized 
ciies  of  the  children  burned  in  his  honor,  while  in 
Melytta's  temple  prostitutes  enticed  to  lewdness,  and 
virgins  sacrificed  their  chastity  to  the  goddess.  The 
Osiris  myth  in  Egypt,  the  Adonis  myth  in  Syria  reflect 
the  thoughts  of  death  and  resurrection  which  governed 


CHAP.  I.]    THE  ORIENTAL  AND  GREEK  RELIGIONS.  3? 

these  religions.  Adonis  was  killed  in  the  hunt  by  a 
boar.  The  quickly  withering  little  gardens  planted  at 
his  festival  were  symbolic  of  his  fate.  By  the  side  of 
the  bier  on  which  lay  the  image  of  Adonis  with  the 
open,  bleeding  wound,  a  cultus  of  moiirning-rites  was 
celebrated  with  expressions  of  the  most  frantic  grief. 
Women  wailed  :  Alas,  Lord !  his  glory  is  gone  I  They 
tore  their  hair,  and  lacerated  their  breasts.  Seven  days 
the  mourning  lasted :  then  arose  the  cry,  Adonis  lives  I 
Adonis  has  ascended  I  and  festivals  of  wildest  joy  si' c- 
ceeded  the  mourning. 

The  Greeks  took  the  opposite  course.  They  ideal 
Ized  Nature.  An  idealistic  tendency  ruled  their  cultus, 
as  a  materialistic  tendency  ruled  the  cultus  of  the 
Orient.  The  holy  God  was  hidden  from  them  also. 
Instead  of  holiness,  beauty  took  the  supreme  place. 
Unlike  the  Orientals,  the  Greek  revered  his  gods,  not 
as  monstrous  beings,  but  as  human  types  of  perfect 
beauty.  Their  worship  was  bright  and  cheerful.  It 
lacked  the  earnestness  pervading  Oriental  worship, 
which,  with  all  its  distortions,  was  more  profound,  and 
contained  unconscious  presages  of  the  Deity  who  has 
indeed  in  birth  and  death  descended  to  redeem  us,  but 
it  was  free  from  the  gross  materialism,  the  cruelty  and 
licentiousness,  which  offend  us  in  the  temples  of  Asia. 
Upon  the  Greek  dawned  the  presentiment  of  a  moral 
order  of  the  world.  Is  Baal,  after  all,  only  the  sun  who 
creates  life,  and  then  again  parches  and  destroys  what 
he  himself  has  created,  Zeus  is  also  the  guardian  of 
justice.  Does  Aschera  represent  only  the  sensuous 
impulse  of  nature,  Here  is  the  protectress  of  marriage 
and  domestic  life.  All  here  is  purer,  for  in  respect  to 
chastity  the   Japhetic  nations  were  in  advance  of  the 


84  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  [book  l 

early  corrupted  descendants  of  Ham.  This,  their  fair- 
est inheritance,  the  Greeks  very  early  squandered  ;  and, 
as  the  result,  exhibited  a  wanton  frivolity  which  was 
the  exact  opposite  of  Oriental  earnestness.  To  his 
humanized  gods  the  Greek  in  his  rich  mythology  im- 
puted human  failings  and  vices,  and  Olympus,  with  its 
carousals  and  conflicts,  its  craft  and  violence,  its  amor- 
ous intrigues  and  ambitious  striving,  is  but  a  picture  of 
Greek  national  life  itself.  While  the  Oriental  was  sub- 
ject to  his  gods,  the  Greek  knew  himself  to  be  lord  of 
his.  He  had  himself  made  them;  their  images  were 
the  workmanship  of  his  artists,  their  legends  the  crea- 
tions of  his  poets.  Greece  was  also  the  land  from  which 
proceeded  unbelief.  As  the  Greeks,  and  the  Romans 
whom  they  infected,  lost  their  faith  in  the  Olympian 
gods,  the  monstrous  Oriental  deities  became  again  more 
powerful.  They  were  still  believed  in ;  and  therefore 
they  gained  a  marvellous  power  of  attraction  for  those 
who  no  longer  had  faith  in  Zeus  and  Here,  in  Jupiter 
and  Juno. 

Still  differently  was  the  religious  life  of  Rome  formed 
and  developed.  In  Rome  the  State  was  every  thing, 
therefore  religion  was  interwoven  with  public  life  to 
a  degree  never  elsewhere  realized.  "  Our  ancestors," 
says  Cicero,^'  very  significantly,  "were  never  wiser, 
never  more  inspired  by  the  gods,  than  when  they  de- 
termined that  the  same  persons  should  preside  over  the 
rites  and  ceremonies  of  religion  and  the  government  of 
the  State."  The  priest,  who  had  so  important  an  in- 
fluence in  the  East,  was  completely  overshadowed  in 
Rome  by  the  statesman.  The  Consul  offered  sacrifices, 
and  though  he  was  surrounded  by  priests,  they  were 
mere   masters   of  ceremonies   who   showed   what   was 


CHAP.  I.]  ROMAN  STATE  RELIGION.  35 

to  be  done  and  what  words  were  to  be  used.^'  In 
Rome  the  State,  Rome  itself,  was  honored  as  the  su- 
preme deity.  In  the  times  of  the  Republic  the  State 
was  represented  by  the  Capitoline  Jupiter.  The  con- 
rj[uerors  marched  to  his  temple,  and  brought  to  him  their 
thank-offerings.  When,  however,  Monarchy,  Csesarism, 
had  supplanted  the  Republic,  the  Emperors  became 
representatives  of  the  State,  and  thus,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, took  the  place  of  the  Capitoline  god.  With  per- 
fect logical  consistency  the  Emperors  themselves  became 
gods,  and  the  official  worship  of  these  Emperor-gods 
became  the  proper  State  religion. 

The  Roman  religion,  like  the  Roman  character,  was 
somewhat  prosaic  and  abstract.  It  lacked  imagination. 
The  Roman  gods,  unlike  the  Greek,  had  no  rich  legend- 
ary endowment.  Every  thing  was  practical,  and  con- 
trolled by  a  strong  juridical  bias.  A  Roman's  reli- 
gious duties  were  prescribed  for  him  with  the  greatest 
exactness,  and  to  the  last  detail.  What  god  he  was  to 
invoke,  in  what  way,  with  what  words,  all  this  was  defi- 
nitely settled  by  ancient  tradition.  In  these  particulars 
he  was  excessively  punctilious,  whereas  he  was  entirely 
unconcerned  as  to  the  state  of  his  soul  while  perform- 
ing these  ceremonies.  He  was  deemed  religious  who 
best  knew  the  ritual,  and  most  exactly  observed  it. 
Such  a  man  expected  the  divine  blessing  as  his  right. 
"  Whom  the  gods  like,  they  favor."  And  because  his 
religion  was  thus  purely  external  (^Ceremonice  Romance 
was  the  expressive  name  of  the  Roman  religion),  de- 
void of  imagination  and  appeals  to  feeling,  the  genuine 
Roman  had  so  profound  a  dread  of  all  excess  in  religious 
matters.  Super stitio^  immoderate  piety,  was  hated  by 
him  as  much  as  impietas^  impiety.     He  kept  his  accounts 


38  DECLINE  OF  RELl^^^xOI^.  [boob.  . 

with  the  gods  in  order,  would  not  remain  in  debt  to 
them;  but  would  only  pay  what  he  owed.  It  is  im- 
portant to  realize  this  character  of  the  Roman  religion, 
for  the  Romans  were  the  ruling  nation,  and  fi'om  this 
point  of  view  can  be  judged  how  unintelligible,  how 
rejectable  must  have  appeared  to  a  genuine  Roman 
that  Christianity  which  in  his  eyes  was  only  a  repre- 
hensible super  stitio. 

But  however  manifold,  however  variegated  and  ricJ 
a  development  Heathenism  attained  in  the  ancient 
world,  it  was  still  everywhere  fundamentally  the  same. 
"  They  worshipped  and  served  the  creature  more  than 
the  Creator,"  —  this  was  always  its  essential  character 
in  all  its  forms.  And  because  of  this  homogeneity 
these  dissimilar  forms  could  interchange,  intermingle, 
and  enter  into  new  combinations.  While  the  Mono- 
theist  of  necessity  regarded  all  gods,  save  the  one  only 
God,  as  idols  to  be  utterly  rejected,  the  Polytheist 
readily  acknowledged  gods  everywhere,  even  though 
they  were  not  his  own.  Indeed  he  was  disposed  to  find 
his  own  in  foreign  gods,  and  to  recognize  them  in  all 
places  even  in  the  strangest  disguises.  The  Roman 
easily  persuaded  himself  that  the  Olympian  gods  were 
identical  with  his  own.  Zeus  was  the  same  as  Jupiter, 
Here  as  Juno ;  even  the  grotesque  deities  of  the  Orient 
were  not  alien  to  him.  Everywhere  he  sought  and 
found  his  native  gods,  easily  blended  their  forms  with 
those  of  other  deities,  and  transferred  the  symbols  and 
names  of  the  one  to  the  other.  Caesar  ^^  found  among 
the  Gauls  Mercury,  Mars,  Apollo ;  indeed  Pliny  relates 
that  the  inhabitants  of  the  distant  island  Tapobrane 
(Ceylon)  worshipped  Hercules.^^  A  combination  of 
deities  arose  which  led  at  last  to  a  pantheistic  divinity 


CHAP.  I.]         FOREIGN  GODS  INVITED  TO  ROME.  37 

An  abstract  Monotheism  hovered  more  or  less  distinctly 
over  Polytheism.  As  the  commingling  of  nations  gave 
rise  to  an  abstract  Universalism,  the  first  step  to  a 
Christian  universalism,  so  the  blending  of  religions 
produced  an  abstract  Monotheism,  the  first  step  to 
Christian  monotheism.  y^ 

Here  also  appears  the  significance  of  Rome  as  the^ 
collecting  or  uniting  power.  Arnobius  justly  calls 
Rome  "the  worshipper  of  all  divinities." ^^  It  was  a 
maxim  of  the  Roman  State  to  tolerate  all  religions. 
Upon  the  conquest  of  a  province,  or  city,  its  gods  were 
invited  with  a  solemn  formula  to  come  and  take  their 
seat  in  Rome.  "  If  there  be  a  god  or  goddess  who  has 
taken  this  people  and  city,  N.  u.,  under  its  protection, 
Deity,  whosoever  thou  mayest  be,  I  pray  thee,  I  adjure 
thee,  to  forsake  this  people  and  city,  to  withdraw  from 
this  city  and  its  temples,  and  come  to  Rome  to  me  and 
mine,  that  our  city,  our  temples  and  sacrifices,  may  be 
acceptable  to  thee.  If  thou  wilt  do  this,  I  vow  to  thy 
divinity  temples  and  games."  ^^  The  gods  were  not 
taken  awaj^-  captive,  and  while  the  whole  conquered  na- 
tion and  territory  were  regarded  as  at  the  free  dispo- 
sal of  the  conqueror,  Rome  acknowledged  their  deities. 
The  Athenians  retained  their  Athene,  the  Syrians  their 
Syrian  goddess,  the  Jews  their  Jehovah.  However 
rigidly  Rome  centralized,  in  the  religious  domain  the 
cities  preserved  what  was  peculiar  to  them,  their  frnv- 
tifioes  and  flammes,  their  local  rites  and  institutions, 
which  could  not  easily  be  alienated  from  their  original 
design.  This  was  not  mere  political  sagacity;  it  was 
founded  on  the  idea  that  the  gods  of  other  nations  were 
also  gods  who  if  badly  treated  might  harm  the  Ro- 
mans.   It  was  therefore  held  to  be  a  duty  even  to 


88  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  [book  k 

honoi  them.  'Augustus  declared  to  the  Alexandiiana 
that  Le  spared  their  city  in  honor  of  the  great  god 
Serapis.2^  He  also  sent  presents  to  the  temple  in 
Jerusalem,  and  had  sacrifices  offered  there  for  himself.^ 
However  foreign  it  would  have  been  to  the  Romans 
to  deprive  subjugated  nations  of  their  religions,  they 
nevertheless  took  their  own  gods  into  the  provinces. 
The  armies,  the  public  officers,  the  colonies  carried 
with  them  the  Oapitoline  Jupiter,  the  ceremonice  Ho- 
mance^  and  required  for  them  as  friendly  a  recognition 
as  they  themselves  extended  to  the  local  deities.  This 
was  all  the  more  exacted  because  the  official  religion 
of  Rome  now  culminated  in  the  divine  homage  paid  to 
the  Emperor.  A  In  the  adoration  of  the  Divus  Augustus, 
and  the  other  Bivi^  a  universal  State  religion  was  con- 
stituted which  had  more  profound  significance  than  is 
commonly  supposed.  In  this  way  there  was  effected  in 
the  provinces  a  strange  medley  of  Roman  and  local 
deities.  The  soldiers,  especially,  were  largely  instru- 
mental in  bringing  this  about.  Ordinarily  they  were 
very  superstitious.  If  they  remained  a  long  time  in  a 
country,  they  worshipped  its  gods  and  took  them  with 
them  on  their  return.  Very  often  the  Roman  and  the 
Jocal  deities  were  associated.  A  cavalry  officer  in  an 
inscription  between  Syene  and  Phylse,  gives  thanks  for 
his  fortunate  discovery  of  some  new  marble  quarries 
to  Jupiter  Ammon  Anubis  and  Juno  Regina,  the  pro- 
tectress of  mountains.^'  Another,  "  zealous  for  all  holy 
things,"  makes  in  Egypt  a  vow  "  for  the  welfare  of  his 
wife  and  children  "  to  the  great  god  Hermes  Paytnu- 
phis.^*  On  the  other  hand  the  provincials  were  inclined 
to  recognize  and  honor  the  Roman  gods  while  they  also 
retained  their  own.     Thus  under  Tiberius  a  corporation 


CHAP.  I  THE  MINGLING  OF  DEITIES.  89 

of  seamen  in  Paris  erected  to  Jupiter  OapUoUnus  an 
altar  on  whose  socle  may  be  also  seen  the  names  of  the 
old  Celtic  deities  Esus  and  Tarvus.^^  Temple.^  have 
been  found  which  were  consecrated  jointly  to  Apollc 
and  the  Gallic  goddess  Sirona,  to  Mercury  and  Ros- 
merta.'^® 

Moreover  the  gods  worshipped  in  the  provinces  mi- 
grated to  Rome.  Every  thing  worthless  and  disgrace- 
ful, says  Tacitus,"  flows  from  all  quarters  into  Rome, 
and  is  there  honored.  The  gods  of  the  whole  eartl» 
gathered  together  in  the  chief  city  of  the  worldi^  \nf 
however  strenuously  the  genuine  Roman  spirit,  as  ex- 
pressed by  Tacitus,  at  first  rejected  foreign  rites,  and 
numerous  as  were  the  edicts  issued  for  their  suppres- 
sion, or  at  least  restriction,  that  commingling  of  deities 
which  began  as  early  as  the  decline  of  the  Republic, 
and  which  characterized  more  than  all  else  the  period 
of  the  fall  of  Heathenism,  went  on  uninterruptedly  to 
its  completion.  As  all  nationalities  dissolved  and  be- 
came fused  in  one  mass,  so  there  was  also  a  dissolution 
of  religions.  A  religious  chaos  unparalleled  in  history 
took  the  place  of  the  national  religions  in  order  that 
out  of  this  chaos  a  new  world  might  be  created. 

This  entire  process  presupposes  that  the  pagan  faith 
was  in  its  decline.  Had  it  still  retained  its  fresh, 
youthful  vigor,  such  agitation,  such  restless  fluctuation, 
would  not  have  been  possible.  On  the  other  hand  it 
should  not  be  overlooked  that  this  process  sprang  from 
a  strong  religious  need,  and  in  a  certain  sense  con- 
tributed to  the  strengthening  of  the  popular  religiun. 
The  multitudinous  forms  of  Heathenism  arrayed  them- 
selves as  a  unit  against  Christianity  their  common  foe. 
And  since  the  Roman  gods  had  borrowed   somewhat 


40  DECLINB  OF  RELIGION.  [book  i 

from  the  Oriental,  they  were  better  fitted  to  appease 
the  religious  need,  and  consequently  better  able  to 
resist  the  new  faith. 

In  general  we  must  beware  of  the  representation 
that  Christianity,  at  its  advent,  found  the  religious  life 
of  the  pagan  world  already  dead,  or  even  in  complete 
decay.  Victory  was  not  made  so  easy  for  it.  The 
usual  statements  as  to  the  decay  of  religion  in  the 
earlier  years  of  the  period  of  the  Emperors,  are,  I  am 
convinced,  greatly  exaggerated,  and  need  in  more  re- 
spects than  one  essential  qualification.  This  much  is 
true :  the  decline  had  already  begun,  but  its  completion 
went  on  very  slowly,  constantly  retarded  by  mighty 
forces,  and  interrupted  by  seasons  of  new  progress, 
such  as  for  instance  was  the  time  of  the  Empire  when 
compared  with  the  last  days  of  the  Republic.  If  we 
would  endeavor  to  trace  a  picture  of  the  religious  con- 
dition of  that  time  we  should  do  well  first  of  all  to 
realize  how  difficult  it  is  to  estimate  the  general  state 
of  faith  in  an  age.  This  is  one  of  the  hardest  of  tasks 
even  when  copious  contemporary  materials  are  at  com- 
mand. How  much  more  difficult  is  it  when  we  possess 
only  fragments  of  its  literature,  isolated  and  as  it  were 
accidental  remains,  inscriptions,  and  the  like.  The 
literature  of  the  time  bears  indeed  a  strongly  marked 
acepticai  and  rationalistic  (aufklarerischen)  character, 
but  this  is  no  certain  test  since  a  people  can  have  more 
faith  than  their  literature  indicates,  for  this  always 
proceeds  from  a  particular  class;  while,  if  we  take 
into  account  inscriptions  and  similar  memorials,  we 
6hould  always  bear  in  mind  that  in  public  documents, 
in  accordance  with  traditional  custom,  a  faith  is  often 
confessed  which  in  reality  no  longer  exists.     The  two 


CHAP.  I.]  CONTINUED  OBSERVANCE  OF  PAGAN  RITES.     41 

soui'ces  must  be  combined  if  we  would  obtain  a  correct 
insight  into  the  religious  life  of  Heathenism  at  thai 
time. 

It  would  certainly  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that 
Paganism  was  already  in  manifest  outward  decline. 
On  the  contrary  there  was  as  yet  no  visible  sign  of  de- 
cay. The  temples  still  stood  in  all  their  splendor,  — 
those  destroyed  in  the  civil  wars  having  been  restored 
with  great  magnificence,  —  and  were  visited  by  thou- 
sands. Feasts  and  sacrifices  were  celebrated  with  great 
pomp.  The  altars  were  not  without  suppliants  and 
seekers  for  aid.  The  oracles  were  still  consiilted;  aud 
though  they  had  lost  their  political  importance,  Pyt]iia 
in  Delphi,  and  many  others,  still  responded  to  the  in- 
quiries of  persons  in  private  life.  How  large  was  the 
number  of  sacrifices  can  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that 
in  Rome  alone,  on  the  accession  of  the  Emperor 
Caligula,  100,000  animals  were  <ilain  in  sacrifice  in 
three  months.  Countless  inscriptions  prove  sufficiently 
that  there  were  yet  believers  who  bestowed  rich  gifts 
upon  the  temples  and  priests.  Here  an  officer  gives 
100,000  sesterces  (about  $5,000)  to  build  for  a  goddess 
a  new  chariot  to  be  used  in  processions;  there  some 
one  gives  to  Father  Liber  a  golden  necklace  weighing 
three  ounces,  or  another  presents  a  silver  statue  to 
Felicitas.  When  we  consider  how  few  comparatively 
of  such  votive  inscriptions  have  come  down  ^o  us,  we 
can  infer  how  great  was  ths  number  of  gifts,  uuildings, 
institutions,  bequests,  daily  bestowed  for  religious  pur- 
poses. 

Heathenism  had  as  yet  by  no  means  outlived  itself. 
There  was  much  which  still  assured  to  it  for  centuries  a 
tenacious  life.     First,  its  union  with  the  political  and 


42  DECLINE  OP  RELIGION.  [book  i. 

•^public  life  of  Rome.  Everywhere  religion  was  inti- 
mately interwoven  with  the  organization  of  the  State ; 
upon  it  rested  outward  morality,  and  even  those 
advanced  thinkers  who  personally  no  longer  believed 
in  the  gods,  but  only  in  Nature,  were  of  necessity  pious 
after  the  Roman  way  as  respected  the  whole  mass  of 
traditional  usages,  the  national  sanctuaries,  the  fire  of 
Vesfca,  the  haruspices  and  auguries,  memorial  services 
for  the  dead,  or  whenever  they  were  officially  present  at 
sacrifices,  and  perhaps  themselves  obliged  to  conduct 
them.  The  Emperors  in  person  performed  solemn  lus- 
trations for  the  city.  On  special  occasions,  as  under 
Nero  after  the  Pisonian  conspiracy,  the  gods  were 
remembered  with  costly  gifts.  The  Roman  aristocracy, 
also,  though  at  heart  long  estranged  from  the  estab- 

j y  lished  cultus  and  disposed  in  private  to  smile  at  it,  did 
not  oppose  it.  On  the  contrary  they  deemed  it  of  con- 
sequence officially  to  prove  their  Romanism  by  strict 
adherence  to  the  State  religion.  They  had  moreover 
a  personal  interest  in  its  maintenance  beside  that 
which  arose  from  their  membership  in  the  many  higher 
colleges  of  priests.  As  in  Rome,  so  in  all  the  cities 
religious  life  was  most  closely  connected  with  the  muni- 
cipal constitution.  In  the  East  there  were  a  great 
many  municipal  associations  (the  Koinon)  which  rested 
wholly  on  a  religious  basis,  and  were  designed  to  secure 
the  observance  of  common  religious  festivals.  Natur- 
ally those  in  authority  had  an  interest,  of  which  they 
were  well  aware,  to  preserve  what  was  established^^ 

The  general  adherence  of  the  people  to  the  existing 
forms  of  religion  cannot  be  doubted  in  view  of  the 
habitually  conservative  feeling  in  such  matters  of  the 
masses.     In  the  cities  numerous  associations  formed  so 


CH4P.  1.]      POPULAR  BELIEF.     F.OIIL1   RELIGION.  48 

many  centres  for  the  worship  of  this  or  that  god.  The 
burial-clubs,  the  guilds  of  artisans,  merchants,  work- 
men of  various  sorts,  all  of  which  gained  increasing 
importance  to  society  during  the  Empire,  bore  at  the 
same  time  a  religious  character.  Each  had  some  god  or 
other  as  a  patron,  and  was  instituted,  in  part,  for  his 
worship.  His  image  and  altar  stood  in  their  place  of 
assembly,  and  every  meeting  began  with  a  sacrificti. 
That  the  country-people  adhered  even  more  firmly  to 
the  ancient  religion,  need  scarcely  be  mentioned.  They 
still  recited  with  simple  faith  the  old  legends,  and 
dreaded  to  meet  Pan  at  noon  in  the  field,  or  to  find  on 
their  return  home  a  faun  on  the  hearth.  In  accordance 
with  ancient  custom  they  still  observed  the  feasts  of 
the  gods,  the  festival  of  Anna  Perenna,  or  of  Juno  in 
Faleria,  which  Ovid  describes  for  us  from  personal 
experience.  In  the  darkness  of  an  ancient  wood  stood 
the  rude  altar  of  the  goddess,  her  image  was  carried 
thither  in  procession,  sacrifices  were  offered,  booths  con- 
structed of  branches,  and  then  the  day  was  spent  in 
eating,  drinking,  merry-making,  and  dancing,  with  un* 
restrained  joy.^^ 

The  old  religion  was  also  still  firmly  supported  by 
family  customs  and  usages.  These  are  chiefly  deter- 
mined by  the  wife  and  mother,  and  the  women  at  the 
time  of  which  we  speak  were  generally  attached  to  the 
old  faith.  Cicero,  who  himself  often  enough  ridicules 
the  fables  about  the  gods,  deemed  it  perfectly  natural 
that  his  wife  should  be  pious,  and  did  nothing  to  change 
her  views.  Plautus,  in  portraying  the  ideal  wife,  does 
not  fail  to  mention,  —  together  with  gravitas^  womanly 
dignity,  respect  for  parents,  obedience  to  her  husband, 
—  reverence  for  the  gods.^    "  She  was  pic  us  without 


44  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  [bock  i 

superstition,"  is  the  highest  praise  which  a  husband 
pays  to  his  deceased  wife  in  a  memorial  inscription.* 
An  estimable  matron  was  still  one  who  faithfully  ful- 
filled her  religious  duties,  did  not  stay  away  from 
prayers  and  sacrifices,  and  diligently  frequented  the 
temples. 

Generally  a  man  sooner  cuts  loose  from  his  faith, 
than  from^stablished  customs.  Even  where  the  father 
of  a  family  belonged  to  the  advanced  thinkers  the  cus- 
tomary religious  observances  were  never  omitted  at 
betrothals  and  marriages,  at  births  and  deaths.  Lucre- 
tius is  perhaps  correct  when  he  speaks  of  those  who, 
so  long  as  it  went  well  with  them,  mocked  at  the  gods, 
but  at  the  first  reverse  of  fortune  hastened  to  the  tem- 
ples for  the  sake  of  sacrificing ;  ^^  and  to  many  would 
have  applied  the  picture  Plutarch  draws  of  a  man  who 
inwardly  estranged  from  religious  ceremonies  still  out- 
wardly joined  in  them.  "  Through  fear  of  the  multi- 
tude he  feigns  prayers  without  feeling  any  need,  and 
utters  words  which  contradict  his  philosophy.  When 
he  sacrifices  he  stands  by  the  side  of  the  slaying  priest 
as  by  a  butcher,  and  after  the  offering  departs  with  the 
words  of  Menander :  '  I  have  sacrificed  to  gods  who  do 
not  care  for  me.'"^^ 

Finally  there  were  the  countless  local  rites  in  which 
Uie  old  faith  lived  on  notwithstanding  all  enlighten- 
ment. The  recently  discovered  registers  of  a  Roman 
local  worship,  that  of  the  Arvales,  afford  an  interesting 
view  of  the  tenacious  life  of  these  cults.  It  continued 
unaltered  through  all  changes  of  the  city  and  the  State 
down  to  the  later  centuries.  The  same  litany  to  which 
the  kings  of  Rome  had  listened  was  still  chanted  by  the 
Ajval  Brothers  when  Elagabalus,  the  priest  of  the  sun 


CHAT.  L]  LOCAL  CULTS.  45 

from  Syria,  sat  upon  the  throne  of  the  Caesars.  Still 
stood  in  their  temples  the  antique  jars,  made  without 
potters'  wheels,  which  were  used  before  bread  was 
baked,  and  when  corn  was  only  pounded  into  meal. 
Rome  from  a  village  of  peasants  had  become  the 
metropolis  of  the  world,  its  morning  and  its  noon  were 
past,  its  evening  was  already  setting  in,  and  still  they 
sang,  at  every  fresh  return  of  Spring,  in  Latin  which 
if  spoken  on  the  street  no  one  could  have  understood, 
the  primeval  song : 

Help  us,  Lases  I  help  I 

Marsl  Marsl 
Suffer  not  Death  and  Destrnction 

To  rush  in  u^n  us : 
Be  satisfied,  draad  Mars  1  «• 

The  chants  and  prayers  of  the  Salian  priesthood  had 
become  so  unintelligible  in  the  classical  age  that  com- 
mentaries were  written  upon  them.  Even  the  learned 
could  no  longer  explain  them.  Yet  they  were  retained 
unaltered,  and  Marcus  Aurelius  knew  them  by  heart 
in  his  eighth  year.^  The  tough,  conservative,  spirit  of 
the  Romans  showed  itself,  also,  in  religious  things. 

So  was  it  everywhere.  Not  to  speak  of  the  Orient, 
whose  thoroughly  stable  character  is  evinced  also  in  its 
worship,  how  many  primeval  images  of  the  gods,  how 
many  cults  observed  without  change  from  time  im- 
memorial, had  Greece.  In  Sparta  was  still  shown  the 
image  of  Artemis  which  Orestes,  accjording  to  the 
legend,  had  carried  away  from  the  Taurian  temple,  and 
every  year  youths  were  found  who  were  willing  to  be 
scourged  before  this  image  until  their  blood  fiowed. 
In  Patrse,  as  had  been  the  custom  for  centuries,  the 


16  DECLINE  OP  RELIGION.  [book  l 

priest  still  rode,  in  the  procession  at  the  annual  festival, 
upon  a  car  drawn  by  stags,  in  order  to  burn  animals 
alive  on  the  altar  of  the  goddess,  and  in  Arcadia  the 
priestesses  still  chanted  before  the  altar  the  old  magic 
songs  which  Medea  was  said  to  have  sung. 

While,  however,  there  were  few,  if  any,  apparent 
traces  of  even  an  external  decline  of  the  old  religion, 
something  like  the  dusk  of  evening  rested  everywhere 
upon  it.  The  times  in  which  Pericles  led  processions 
up  to  the  Parthenon,  or  the  generals  of  the  Republic 
brought  as  triumphers  their  thank-offerings  to  the  Cap- 
itoline  Jupiter,  were  irrecoverably  gone.  Doubtless 
there  were  even  then  devout  souls,  according  to  pagan 
standards,  who  with  mystic  fervor  frequented  the  tem- 
ples, brought  thither  their  offerings,  and  repeated  their 
prayers;  doubtless  there  were  many  more  upon  whom 
the  intoxicating  splendor  of  the  worship  made  at  least 
a  momentary  impression ;  but,  in  general,  religion  was 
unquestionably  sustained  more  from  custom  than  from 
faith;  and  calm  deliberation,  cool  calculation,  regard 
for  the  masses,  and  the  consideration  that  it  had  always 
been  so,  had  more  to  do  in  securing  its  observance  than 
mystic  fervor.  At  least  there  was  among  the  higher 
classes  much  open  unbelief,  which  more  and  more  found 
its  way  down  to  the  lower  strata  of  society ;  and  even 
amongst  such  persons  doubt  and  superstition  flourished 
and  grew  rank,  testif3dng  just  as  strongly  as  unbelief 
that  the  time  of  simple  faith  had  gone  by.  More  or 
less  clearly  the  feeling  was  awakened  that  the  old 
religion  no  longer  sufficed.  New  ideas  were  stirring, 
and  while  some  persons  gradually  cut  loose  from  all  the 
gods,  others  sought  after  new  ones  only  to  find  quickly 
enough  that  the  new  could  satisfy  the  deepest  needs  of 
the  heart  as  little  as  the  old. 


CHAP,  i]  UNBELIEF.  47 

This  unbelief  was  not  of  recent  date.  Tn  Greece 
philosophy  had  long  since  undermined  faith  in  the  old 
deities,  and  Aristophanes  had  already  made  sport  of  the 
Olympian  gods  on  the  stage.  The  fickle  Greek  at 
evening  in  the  Comedy  laughed  at  the  same  gods  to 
whom  the  next  morning  in  their  temples  he  offered 
sacrifice.  With  Greek  culture  and  philosophy  unbelie/ 
had  come  to  the  Romans,  as  in  the  last  century  Illumin- 
ism  came  to  Germany  from  France.  The  first  Roman 
writers  who  copied  the  Greek  appropriated  also  their 
unbelief.  Ennius  thus  expresses  his  sentiments:  "I 
believe  that  there  are  gods  in  heaven,  but  I  affirm 
that  they  do  not  concern  themselves  about  the  human 
race.  If  they  did  the  good  would  prosper,  the  bad 
suffer.  But  now  the  reverse  is  true."^  This  was  a 
practical  argument  which  was  then  employed  as  often 
against  the  heathen  faith  as  it  is.  to-day  against  the 
Christian.  Cato  and  Csesar  openly  acknowledged  their 
scepticism  in  the  Senate,  and  numerous  testimonies  in 
the  literature  of  the  classic  age  prove  unmistakably 
that  amongst  educated  persons  the  majority  were  at 
heart  more  or  less  at  variance  with  the  old  creed.^ 
With  glowing  hate  had  Lucretius  already  pursued  every 
religious  faith.  Each  was  to  him  nought  but  a  gigantic 
spectre  rearing  itself  from  earth  to  heaven,  with  heavy 
foot  trampling  the  human  race  ignominiously  to  the 
dustj  while  with  menacing  look  it  gazed  down  from  on 
high  until  the  bold  spirit  of  Epicurus  bade  it  defiance. 
He  opened  the  gates  of  nature,  pressed  far  beyond  the 
flaming  walls  of  the  universe  into  the  infinite,  and 
as  a  conqueror  brought  to  man  the  knowledge  of  the 
ultimate  grounds  of  all  being.  Thus  did  he  vanquish 
faith  and  exalt  us  by  his  victory  to  heaven.     Acceptance 


48  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  [Jtoom  i 

of  this  doctrine  did  not  necessarily  imply  frivolity  and 
iiTeligion.  On  the  contrary  faith  itself  had  often  led 
to  impious  and  criminal  deeds.  Agamemnon  sacrificed 
his  own  daughter  to  Diana,  "  To  so  much  harm  could 
faith  impel.''  To  Lucretius  the  gods  are  but  the  off- 
spring of  fear,  Providence  a  chimera,  the  world  a  result 
of  the  conjunction,  mixture,  and  combination  of  atoms, 
life  a  product  of  primeval  generation.^^  Deeply  as  this 
fanaticism  of  unbelief  moves  us  we  are  equally  if  not 
more  affected  by  the  calmness  with  which  Pliny  sets 
forth  as  an  assured  result  of  science  that  there  are  no 
gods ;  for,  he  says,  Nature  alone  is  God,  the  mother  of 
all  things,  the  holy  immeasurable  universe;  and  with 
freezing  unconcern  he  draws  the  comfortless  conclusion 
inseparable  from  this  view  of  the  world :  "  There  is 
nothing  certain  save  that  nothing  is  certain,  and  there 
is  no  more  wretched  and  yet  arrogant  being  than  man. 
The  best  thing  which  has  been  given  to  man  amid  the 
many  torments  of  this  life  is,  that  he  can  take  his  own 
life."^  Put  now  with  the  fanatic,  and  the  man  of 
science,  the  courtier,  the  consummate  worldling,  Pe- 
tronius,  who  was  regarded  at  Nero's  court  as  an  arbiter 
in  questions  of  taste,  and  who  for  a  long  time  possessed 
the  highest  favor  of  the  Emperor  on  account  of  his 
skill  and  inventive  talent  in  the  arrangement  of  sports, 
and  we  have  three  types  of  unbelief  which  doubtless 
were  often  enough  repeated  although  with  less  clever- 
ness and  brilliancy.  A  life  without  God,  a  life  of 
prosperity  and  of  most  highly  refined  enjoyment :  not 
coarsely  material  but  finely  cultured  and  art  loving,  yet 
without  any  deeper  meaning,  this  it  is  which  is  mirrored 
in  the  life  and  in  the  works  of  Petronius.  His  death 
was  in  keeping  with  such  a  life.    Implicated  in  the 


CHAP.  I.]       POSITION  OF  TACITUS  AND  OTHERS.  49 

Pisonian  conspiracy  he  determined  to  destroy  hunself. 
His  veins  were  opened,  and  while  the  blood  was  flowing 
he  conversed  with  his  friends,  not  upon  serious  themes, 
upon  immortality,  like  Psetus  Thrasea,  but  on  frivolous 
subjects.  He  caused  ludicrous  poems  to  be  read  to 
him,  and  when  something  especially  laughable  occurred 
he  had  his  veins  tied  up  again  that  he  might  thoroughly 
enjoy  it. 

Not  all  were  so  fanatical  as  Lucretius,  so  confident  in 
their  unbelief  as  Pliny,  so  frivolous  as  Petronius.  We 
meet  also  men  who  strove  to  hold  fast  the  old  faith. 
Such  was  Tacitus,  the  great  historian,  who  lived  in  the 
full  conviction  that  the  gods  carry  into  effect  the  laws 
of  nature,  are  active  in  the  course  of  affairs,  and  by 
omens,  —  so  many  of  which  he  himself  relates,  —  fore- 
tell the  future.  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,^^  who 
shortly  before  the  birth  of  Christ  wrote  a  Roman  his- 
tory, admires  in  Romulus  most  of  all  that  he  held  some- 
thing to  be  the  basis  of  the  State  of  which  many  states- 
men talk,  but  which  few  seek  to  secure,  the  good  will 
of  the  gods,  which  when  it  exists  disposes  all  for  the 
best  good  of  men.  Notwithstanding  many  ridicule  the 
idea  he  holds  fast  to  this,  that  the  gods  concern  them- 
selves about  men ;  and  he  relates  with  entire  confidence 
an  instance  of  such  care,  in  which,  through  the  inter- 
vention of  the  gods,  the  innocence  of  a  falsely  accused 
Vestal  was  brought  to  light.  Especially  does  Plutarch 
everywhere  appear,  in  a  pagan  way,  believing  and  pious. 
Yet  in  this  very  case  we  cannot  avoid  the  impression 
"^hat  this  believing  disposition,  with  its  forced  character. 
Its  constant  complaint  of  the  unbelief  of  the  present, 
and  its  looking  back  to  better  times,  has  in  it  something 
artificial;  while  in  the  case  of  Tacitus,  as  his  contempt 


50  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  [book  l 

of  Christianity  and  of  all  forms  of  religion  shows,  polit- 
ical motives  doubtless  co-operated. 

The  majority  were  likely  then,  as  at  all  times,  to  seek 
a  middle  way.  Without  wholly  discarding  the  popular 
faith  and  openly  breaking  with  it,  they  kept  to  them- 
selves the  higher  knowledge  peculiar  to  men  of  culture. 
Personally  they  no  longer  believed  in  the  gods,  but 
found  it  useful  and  conducive  to  conservatism  to  ha\e 
the  people  believe  in  them.  So  they  were  cautious 
about  openly  acknowledging  their  unbelief,  and  hypo- 
critically participated  in  the  ceremonies,  while  at  heart 
they  imagined  themselves  to  be  wholly  superior  to  all 
the  old  traditional  rubbish.  The  irrational  populace, 
Strabo*^  thinks,  is  allured,  like  children,  by  the  fables 
of  the  gods.  "  For  it  is  not  possible  to  impart  intelli- 
gence to  the  crowds  of  women  and  common  people,  and 
lead  them  by  philosophical  teaching  to  piety,  reverence, 
and  conscientiousness.  This  must  be  done  by  super- 
stition which  cannot  exist  without  fables  and  marvel 
lous  tales.  For,  the  thunderbolt,  the  trident,  the  drag- 
ons of  the  gods  are  myths,  as  is  also  all  the  old  theology. 
FoTmders  of  states  have  approved  such  things  as  bug- 
bears for  the  simple."  "  All  that  ignoble  crowd  of  gods 
which  the  superstition  of  ages  has  collected,  we  will 
adore,"  says  Seneca,*^  "in  such  a  way  as  to  remember 
that  its  worship  belongs  rather  to  usage  than  to  reality. 
The  wise  man  will  unite  in  all  these  observances  as 
commanded  by  the  laws,  not  as  pleasing  to  the  gods." 
Varro  *^  formally  systematized  this  view  by  distinguish- 
ing three  kinds  of  religion,  the  mythical  for  poets,  the 
physical  (Natural  Religion)  for  philosophers,  and  the 
popular  for  the  masses.  In  a  similar  way  most  persons 
discriminated  between  an  esoteric  knowledge  belonging 


CHAP.  I.]       ATTEMPTS  TO  FIND  A  MIDDLE   WAY.  51 

to  the  (cultivated,  and  the  exoteric  religion  possessed  hy 
the  ignorant  multitude.  Sextus  Empiricus  was  a  oom- 
plete  sceptic.  His  entire  doctrine  amounts  to  this,  that 
one  can  know  nothing,  that  all  is  uncertain,  even  the 
existence  of  the  gods ;  and  yet  he  adds :  "  Following  the 
custom,  we  affirm  that  there  are  gods,  and  that  they 
exercise  a  providence  and  we  honor  them."*^  The 
Epicureans  did  not  all  share  the  hate  of  Lucretius ;  on 
the  contrary  most  of  them  were  indifferent.  They  did 
not  deny  the  existence  of  the  gods  per  se,  but  only  that 
they  cared  for  this  world.  The  people  might  be  left  in 
peace  with  their  gods,  but  the  educated  man  had  a 
right  not  to  trouble  himself  about  them.  A  real  medi- 
ating theology,  however,  appears  first  in  the  Stoic 
school,  at  that  time  the  most  widely  diffused  of  all.  It 
sought  to  reconcile  faith  and  philosophy  by  accepting  in 
addition  to  the  one  supreme  Deity,  whom  it  conceived 
of  pantheistically,  numerous  subordinate  gods,  the  gods 
of  the  popular  religions.  Accordingly  the  Stoic  could 
accept  these  religions  with  their  countless  deities,  sacri- 
fices, oracles,  miracles,  omens,  and  incantations,  if  neces- 
sary take  part  in  them,  and  all  the  while  hold  fast  to 
his  esoteric  knowledge  of  God. 

As  regards  the  educated  classes  we  may  perhaps 
come  to  this  conclusion :  faith  in  the  gods  of  the  old 
religions  had  disappeared.  In  its  place  had  come  sheer 
Atheism  and  Nihilism,  though  only,  it  may  be  among 
individuals  (at  least  only  such  ventured  openly  to  ex- 
press it).  The  majority  substituted  a  kind  of  Mono- 
theism. They  imagined  something  godlike  above  the 
gods,  a  divine  first  principle,  or  at  least  they  had  a 
presentiment  of  this  without  clearly  discerning  it,  and 
especially  without  being  able  definitely  to  distinguish 


52  DECLINE  OP  RELIGION.  [book  i. 

it  from  th(i  world.  This  dissolving  1  olytheism  led 
naturally  to  Pantheism.  As  the  many  deities  of  the 
heathen  were  all  Nature-gods,  so  must  the  One  Deity 
in  whom  these  all  met  be  a  Nature-god.  Nature  itself  ia 
God ;  and  the  conviction  which  Strabo  utters  as  his  own 
was  doubtless  that  of  many :  "  The  one  highest  being 
is  that  which  embraces  us  all,  which  we  call  heaven, 
world,  and  the  nature  of  the  universe."  ^  Doubtless 
there  was  in  this  Monotheism  a  presage  of  the  true 
God,  a  longing  and  reaching  forth  by  Heathenism  after 
something  higher,  a  testimony  of  the  soul  by  nature 
Christian,  as  Tertullian  says.*^  But  the  One  was  still 
only  "  the  unknown  God  whom  ye  ignorantly  worship." 
The  heathen  did  not  go  beyond  this.  The  Monotheism 
to  which  they  came  at  last  remained  abstract,  lifeless. 
The  God  vaguely  conceived  of  as  above  the  gods  was  no 
divine  being  who  has  talked  with  men,  and  who  can 
be  named  and  supplicated.  Therefore  this  conviction, 
however  widely  it  was  diffused  in  cultivated  circles, 
proved  on  the  whole  powerless.  It  gained  no  influence 
over  public  opinion  and  morals.  The  educated  who 
shared  it  did  not  thereby  attain  to  any  higher  worship, 
but  remained  continually  in  suspense  between  this  their 
own  better  conviction  and  a  hypocritical  (we  cannot 
otherwise  term  it)  participation  in  the  official  rites. 
With  this  scepticism  was  often  offensively  combined  a 
childish  superstition.  Caesar,  who  made  no  conceal- 
ment in  the  Senate  of  his  unbelief,  never  stepped  into 
a  carriage  without  first  uttering  a  magical  formula  as  a 
preservative  against  accident.^  Augustus,  of  whom  it 
was  related  that  he  had  at  a  banquet  openly  scoffed  at 
the  gods,  dreaded  misfortune  through  the  entire  day 
when  on  rising  in  the  morning  he  had  put  the  left  shoe 


CHAP.  I.]  UNBELIEF  AMONG  THE  PEOPLE.  58 

on  the  right  foot.  He  would  never  begin  a  journey  on 
the  nundinoB^  nor  undertake  any  thing  important  on  the 
nonesy^  Pliny  had  lost  faith  in  every  thing,  yet  he  b^^'X^^^ 
lieved  in  talismans.  No  one  thought  of  bringing  the 
great  mass  of  the  people  to  a  better  knowledge ;  in  the 
pride  of  an  esoteric  wisdom  this  was  regarded  as  plainly 
impossible.  So  far  therefore  as  this  wisdom,  notwith- 
standing such  an  opinion,  did  affect  the  people,  its  in- 
fluence was  only  destructive. 

The  exact  limit  of  this  process  cannot  be  defined.  It 
is  true  that  a  series  of  passages  might  be  adduced  from 
writers  of  the  time  which  would  lead  us  to  conclude 
that  literally  no  one  any  longer  had  faith  in  the  gods. 
Indeed  Juvenal  contemptuously  says  that  even  the 
youngest  children  had  ceased  to  believe  every  thing 
that  was  related  of  the  lower  world.*^  But  we  are  too 
familiar  from  our  own  experience  with  such  forms  of 
speech  as.  Nobody  believes  that  to-day !  not  to  under- 
stand how  little  force  they  have  as  proof.  Unbelief 
has  had  the  skill  in  all  ages  to  set  forth  its  own  views 
as  alone  valid,  and  universally  diffused.  All  the  facts 
are  too  strongly  contradictory  to  allow  the  supposition 
that  as  early  as  the  first  century  the  mass  of  the  people 
had  been  inwardly  estranged  from  the  heathen  faith. 
On  the  other  hand,  however,  we  have  unimpeachable 
witnesses  whose  testimony  leaves  no  doubt  that  un- 
belief had  already  penetrated  beyond  the  cultivated 
circles,  and  begun  to  make  its  way  among  the  masses. 
The  historian  Livy  speaking  of  an  earlier  time,  says^ 
"  That  neglect  of  the  gods  which  prevails  in  the  present 
age  had  then  not  yet  spread,"  ^^  and  Quinctilian,  the 
renowned  teacher  of  rhetoric,  whose  own  convictions 
seem  to  have  been  very  fluctuating,  declares :  "  Even 


54  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  Tbook  u 

among  our  country-people  there  are  only  a  few  who  do 
not  either  know  something  «f  Nature  or  seet  to  acquire 
this  knowledge."  ^  It  was  a  bad  sign,  and  indicative 
of  a  wide-spread  indifference  toward  the  old  religion 
that  so  early  as  the  time  of  Augustus  there  could  no 
longer  be  found  among  free  Roman  families  virgins 
who  were  willing  to  become  Vestals.  It  became  neces- 
sary to  take  freed  persons,  and  Tiberius  was  constrained 
to  increase  the  privileges  and  prerogatives  of  the  Ves- 
tals in  order  to  make  attractive  a  service  once  so  highly 
venerated.  Even  among  the  people  confidence  in  the 
ancient  deities  had  already  much  diminished  and  was 
daily  decreasing.  It  could  not  be  otherwise.  The  ex- 
ample of  the  higher  classes  is  always  determinative  for 
the  lower,  and  the  endeavor  to  maintain  amongst  the 
ignorant  a  religion  one  has  himself  abandoned  has  never 
yet  succeeded. 

On  the  other  hand  we  may  not  underestimate  what 
was  done  by  the  upper  classes  to  foster  the  old  religion. 
Augustus  consciously  aimed  at  a  restoration  of  the 
State-church.  Much  that  had  been  destroyed  in  the 
turbulent  times  of  the  civil  wars,  was  replaced.  Tem- 
ples were  repaired  and  built  anew,  the  priesthoods  filled 
up,  the  festivals  and  sacrifices  re-established,  ancient 
traditions  sought  out.  Virgil's  poems  by  their  piety 
promoted  this  object,  and  Ovid  suffered  severely  for  not 
entering  into  the  movement.  Even  the  bad  Emperors  of 
the  Julian  line  held  firmly  to  the  maxim  that  the  State- 
religion  should  be  supported  by  laws  and  their  (wn 
example.  However  indifferent  Tiberius  may  have  been 
personally,  he  still  cared  zealously  for  the  official  wor- 
ship, was  well  instructed  in  the  ancient  usages,  and 
would  not  tolerate  any  changes  in  them.*^     Claudius,  at 


CHAP.  I.]  ATTEMPTS  AT  RESTORAIION.  56 

his  triumph,  ascended  on  his  knees  the  steps  to  the  Capi 
tol.^2  When  one  day  a  bird  of  evil  omen  sat  on  the  tem- 
ple of  Jupiter,  all  the  people  were  summoned  to  make  a 
solemn  expiation,  and  the  Emperor  himself  as  Pontifex 
Maximus  pronounced  from  a  tribune  the  liturgical  for- 
mulas which  the  people  repeated  after  him.^^  Even 
Nero,  whose  own  devotions  were  limited  to  a  little  idol 
given  him  by  one  of  the  common  people,  rigidly  adhered 
to  this  fundamental  principle  of  the  Julian  house. 
When  a  temple  on  the  Capitol  had  been  damaged  by 
lightning  he  instituted  elaborate  ceremonies  to  appease 
the  anger  of  the  god.^ 

Accustomed  as  we  are  to  regard  religion  as  an  inward 
life  which  cannot  be  evoked  by  any  imperial  edicts,  it 
is  natural  for  us  to  condemn  in  advance  such  efforts  at 
restoration  as  futile.  They  were  not  so  much  so  as  we 
might  readily  suppose.  The  Roman  religion  did  not 
consist  of  articles  of  faith,  but  of  ceremonies.  Belief 
cannot  be  decreed  by  authority,  but  ceremonies  may 
be  restored ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  questioned  that  in  this 
respect  the  policy  of  the  Julian  house  —  which  later 
Emperors,  especially  Vespasian,^^  continued  —  was  not 
without  effect.  It  is  well  to  notice  that  just  at  the  time 
when  Christianity  was  born  the  pagan  religion  received 
a  new  impulse.  As  compared  with  the  last  days  of  the 
Republic  Religion  began  with  the  Monarchy  to  acquire 
new  strength. 

A  sure  sign  that  the  pagan  religion  was  by  no  means 
as  yet  so  devoid  of  life  as  is  commonly  supposed,  is 
to  be  found  in  the  new  forms  of  worship  which  now 
appeared ;  as  for  example,  thft  worship  of  the  goddess 
Annona,  the  provider  of  corn.  When  the  supplying  of 
Rome  with  corn  assumed  greater  importance  than  in 


66  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  [book  \ 

earlier  times,  the  impulse  among  the  Romans  to  give  to 
every  branch  of  life  a  special  deity,  led  them  to  create 
this  new  goddess.  The  worship  of  the  Emperors  i? 
especially  significant  in  this  connection. 

The  deification  of  the  Emperors  seems  to  us,  at  first, 
like  an  effect  of  frenzy,  and  like  boundless  adulation. 
We  are  therefore  inclined  to  regard  it  as  of  little 
importance,  particularly  as  we  find  it  hard  to  conceive 
that  any  one  could  have  seriously  believed  in  the 
divinity  of  the  Emperor.  But  this  is  contradicted  by 
the  fact  that  the  first  apotheosis,  that  of  Caesar,  pro- 
ceeded from  the  people  themselves,  and  though  Augus- 
tus was,  so  to  speak,  regularly  deified  by  a  decree  of 
the  Senate,  yet  it  was  the  conduct  of  the  people  which 
first  gave  the  decree  real  validity.  It  would  be  a  great 
misapprehension  to  regard  the  worship  of  the  Emperors 
solely  as  an  indication  of  the  extent  to  which  human 
folly  can  go,  and  as  deserving  only  ridicule  and  scorn. 
In  reality  it  exerted  the  greatest  influence  not  only  upon 
the  religious,  but  also  upon  the  social,  life  of  that  time ; 
and  became  of  the  greatest  importance  in  the  conflict 
of  Christianity  with  Heathenism. 

The  deification  of  the  Emperors,  which  seems  to  us 
so  strange,  was  deeply  rooted  in  pagan  modes  of 
thought.  The  Orientals  had  long  been  accustomed  to 
pay  divine  honors  to  princes.  In  Egypt,  as  an  inscrip- 
tion attests,^^  Ptolemy  Epiphanes  was  revered  as  a  god, 
the  son  of  a  god  and  goddess.  His  image  stood  in 
every  temple,  and  was  carried  about  in  procession  with 
those  of  other  gods.  The  idea  that  a  man  by  illustrious 
deeds  can  become  divine  was  by  no  means  foreign  to 
the  Greeks  (recall  their  hero  worship),  and  if  among 
<ihe  Romans  no  example  of    apotheosis  occurs  after 


CHAP.  I.J  WORSHIP  OF  THE  EMPERORS.  57 

Romujas,  still  the  veneration  paid  to  ancestors,  the 
cultus  of  the  dii  manes^  was  universal.  When  one  so 
highly  honored  by  the  people  as  Caesar  sank  beneath 
the  daggers  of  his  enemies,  it  was  not  so  strange  that 
they  began  immediately  a  cultus  of  the  divus  Julius, 
erected  to  him  an  altar,  and  paid  him  divine  honor; 
that  after  the  fearful  storms  of  the  civil  wars  the  world, 
which  now  at  last  had  attained  repose,  dedicated  to 
Augustus  even  in  his  life-time  temples  and  altars. 

It  is  true  the  worship  of  the  Emperors  had  its  chief 
seat  in  the  provinces.  One  was  too  near  the  Emperor 
at  Rome.  There,  no  doubt,  it  was  difficult  to  believe  in 
the  divinity  of  Claudius  whom,  as  Juvenal  sneeringly 
says,  his  wife  had  sent  to  the  skies,  or  in  that  of  the 
diva  virgo^  a  daughter  of  Nero,  who  lived  but  a  few 
months  and  was  deified  by  him  after  her  death.  It  was 
otherwise  in  the  provinces.  Their  inhabitants  were 
thoroughly  in  earnest  when  they  adored  the  numen  of 
the  Imperial  house,  and  erected  temples  to  the  goddess 
Roma^  and  to  Augustus.  In  so  doing  they  honored  the 
power  which  had  given  peace  to  the  world,  and  to 
which  they  owed  their  security  and  their  civilization. 
For  them  the  worship  of  these  Bivi  was  a  public  attesta- 
tion that  they  deemed  themselves  happy  in  being  under 
the  dominion  of  the  Romans.  And  not  without  reason. 
The  freedmen  who  had  become  rich,  and  who  as  mer- 
chants, or  in  other  forms  of  business,  peculiarly  appre- 
ciated the  value  of  the  peace  of  the  Empire,  were  also 
specially  zealous  worshippers  of  the  divinity  of  the 
Emperors.  The  soldiers,  who  were  accustomed  to  look 
up  to  their  flags  with  the  reverence  for  their  imperial 
leaders  produced  by  strict  discipline,  saw  in  them  at 
the  same  time  the  gods  whose  hands  held  their  entire 


^8  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  [book  u 

fate.  And  if  the  masses  worshipped  the  new  gods  with 
the  wame  simple  ignorance  as  they  did  the  old,  so  the 
educated  also  found  ways  of  adjusting  themselves  to 
tliis  homage.  It  was  the  duty  of  a  good  Roman  citizen, 
it  was  an  act  of  patriotism,  and,  in  the  case  of  a  good 
Emperor,  an  expression  of  gratitude.  It  was  under  the 
able  Emperors  who  from  Trajan  on  ruled  the  State  foi 
nearly  a  century  that  the  worship  of  the  Emperors 
became  deeply  rooted.  It  is  the  one,  ancient  and  tradi- 
tional way  of  testifying  thankfulness,  says  Pliny .^^ 
Many,  indeed,  honored  Plato  in  the  same  way,  and 
Virgil. 

Moreover  —  and  this  should  be  carefully  noticed  — 
this  cult  gained  great  political  and  social  importance. 
It  gave  the  provincial  assemblies  (xoivov,  concilium},  — 
which  otherwise  might  have  been  objects  of  suspicion 
to  the  Emperors  as  dangerous  to  the  unity  of  the  realm, 
—  a  new  and  wholly  unobjectionable  character.  They 
now  became  chiefly  assemblies  for  worshipping  the  deity 
of  the  Emperors.  Provincials  deemed  it  the  highest 
honor  to  be  sent  as  delegates  to  such  an  assembly. 
Splendid  festivals  with  costly  games  drew  multitudes 
of  people,  and  the  worship  of  the  Emperors  as  divine 
was  the  first  step  by  which  the  provincial  assemblies 
regained  political  importance,  since  it  was  natural  that 
the  delegates  once  convened,  if  opportunity  occun'ed^ 
should  busy  themselves  with  the  interests  of  the  prov- 
ince. Thus  within  the  close  centralization  of  the  Ro- 
man State  a  provincial  consciousness  began  again  to 
develop,  and  the  Emperor-cult  gave  it  support. 

Not  less  great  was  its  social  importance.  To  that 
large  portion  of  the  population  which  had  been  steadily 
kept  down  by  the  strongly  aristocratic  tenlency  cf  the 


CHAP.  I.]  WORSHIP  OF  THE  EMPERORS.  69 

earlier  time,  to  all  those  who  were  excluded  from  muni 
cipal  offices,  and  from  the  confraternities  of  priests  of 
the  old  gods,  the  service  of  the  Emperor-gods  stood 
open,  and  they  prosecuted  it  with  zeal.  In  all  the  cities 
we  find  colleges  of  Augustales,  or  Claudiales^  to  which 
they  could  belong,  and  membership  in  such  a  fraternity 
was  for  them  a  way  of  regaining  social  importance. 
Tc  tlio  restoration  of  a  middle  class,  as  we  can  observe 
it  in  these  centuries,  the  worship  of  the  Emperors 
greatly  contributed. 

What  we  wish  most  to  emphasize  is,  that  this  im- 
perial cult  supplied  a  worship  which  was  common  to 
the  whole  Roman  Empire.  All  other  religions  con- 
tained something  purely  local.  Every  country,  every 
city,  with  a  certain  jealousy  maintained  that  its  divinUy 
was  supreme.  To  the  citizens  of  Ephesus  there  was 
no  higher  deity  than  the  great  goddess  Diana,  to  those 
of  Pergamus  where  -^sculapius  was  worshipped  he  was 
chief.  Not  one  of  the  ancient  deities  could  have  secured 
a  united  worship,  but  all  men  did  homage  to  the  Csesar- 
gods.  In  their  service  there  arose  a  unity  of  worship 
entirely  unknown  to  former  times.  Thus  it  came  to 
pass  that  the  worship  of  the  Emperors  eclipsed  all 
other  worships.  "The  statues  of  the  Emperors  are 
more  reverenced  than  those  of  the  ancient  gods,"  testi- 
fies Melito.^^  In  Spain  the  number  of  priests  of  the 
gods  mentioned  in  inscriptions  is  insignificantly  small 
in  comparison  with  the  priests  of  the  Emperors,  and 
in  Africa  the  latter  evidently  far  exceed  the  former  in 
importance.  Even  in  the  ancient  seats  of  worship  in 
Greece  arose  images  of  the  Emperors.  In  Delphi  they 
had  largely  supplanted  the  ancient  deities;  in  El  is,  in 
Corinth,  in  Sparta  could  be  found  their  temples;  and 


60  DECLINE  OP  REl  JGION.  [book  i 

even  iu  the  temple  of  Olympian  Zeus,  by  the  side  ol 
his  renowned  statue,  stood  an  image  of  the  Emperor. 
In  many  ways,  also,  the  ancient  cults  combined  and 
blended  with  the  new.  In  Gaul  the  Emperor-god  was 
honored  with  rites  which  were  borrowed  from  the  wor- 
ship of  the  ancient  gods,  and  the  Arvales,  assiduously 
as  in  other  respects  they  cared  for  what  was  old,  did 
not  oppose  this  innovation;  they  even  assigned  the 
divine  Emperor  a  place  among  the  ancient  gods. 

In  a  certain  sense.it  can  be  said  that  the  religious 
development  of  the  ancient  world  culminated  in  this 
imperial  worship.  It  gave  to  Heathenism  a  centre  of 
religious  unity,  and  to  this  extent  invigorated  it.  Thus 
now  existed  what  hitherto  had  been  unknown,  a  formal 
universal  State  religion  in  which  it  was  the  duty  of  the 
citizen  to  participate,  and  which  he  could  not  violate 
without  committing  at  the  same  time  a  crime  against 
the  State.  However  tolerant  one  might  be  elsewhere, 
there  could  be  no  concession  here.  With  what  for- 
bearance were  the  religious  peculiarities  of  the  Jews 
generally  treated.  Even  the  legions,  when  they  entered 
Jerusalem,  were  obliged  to  leave  their  standards  be- 
hind that  they  might  not  seem  to  bring  idols  into  the 
holy  city.  Yet  even  the  Jews  were  required  to  wor- 
ship the  Emperors.  In  Alexandria,  the  erection  of  an 
image  of  the  Emperor  in  one  of  the  synagogues  occa- 
sioned a  bloody  insurrection ;  and  the  order  of  Caligula 
to  set  up  his  statue  in  the  temple  at  Jerusalem  would 
doubtless  have  caused  great  mischief  had  not  the  mur- 
der of  the  Emperor  intervened.  Here,  therefore,  was 
the  point  where  the  growing  Christianity  necessarily 
came  mto  sharpest  conflict  with  Heathenism.  It  could 
De  tolerated  that  Christians  worshipped  neither  this  god 


CHAP.  1.]  EFFECT  UPON  HEATHENISM.  61 

nor  that ;  the  heathen  themselves  adored  different  gods ; 
but  that  they  scrupled  to  pay  the  En>peror  the  divine 
honor  which  was  his  due,  was  not  to  be  endured.  Not 
their  abandonment  of  other  religious  rites  of  Pagan- 
ism, but  their  refusal  to  strew  incense  to  the  Emperor, 
was  what  decided  the  fate  of  most  of  the  martyrs. 

The  worship  of  the  Emperor  strengthened  heathen- 
ism by  giving  it  a  common  centre  and  by  connecting 
together  its  diversified  forms ;  yet  it  also  sensibly 
weakened  it.  Men  saw  too  plainly  what  the  gods 
were  to  whom  temples  were  erected  and  reverence  paid. 
When  the  Emperor  Claudius  died,  poisoned  by  mush- 
rooms, as  the  report  ran,  he  too  was  transferred  to  the 
gods.  As  was  the  custom,  witnesses  appointed  for  this 
purpose  testified  upon  oath  that  they  had  seen  his  soul 
ascend  into  heaven.  Seneca  delivered  an  address  which 
extolled  him  as  a  god.  His  apotheosis  was  celebrated 
with  great  pomp.  And  immediately  afterwards  the 
same  Seneca,  teacher  and  minister  of  the  new  Emperor, 
published  a  satire  upon  this  deification  under  the  title : 
''  The  translation  of  Claudius  into  the  society  of  the 
pumpkins,"  ^^  in  which  not  only  the  memory  of  the 
Emperor  was  smirched  with  poor  witticisms,  but  even 
the  facts  about  his  death  were  intimated  quite  plainly. 
Nero  himself  said  with  forced  wit  that  mushrooms 
must  be  a  divine  food  since  Claudius  by  eating  them 
had  become  a  god.  In  Rome  this  was  laughed  at;  yet 
none  the  less  temples  to  the  new  god  arose  in  the  Capi- 
tal and  in  the  provinces,  and  it  was  a  part  of  official 
piety  to  offer  to  him  the  usual  homage.  Nero  had  a 
daughter  by  Poppsea  Sabina  who  died  when  three 
months  old.  She  too  was  exalted  to  the  Divoe^  and  was 
lionored  with  temples  and  offerings.    So  with  Poppsea 


«/ 


62  DECLINE  OF  RELIGION.  [book  ^ 

Sabina  herself.  Hadrian  afterwards  crowned  the  whola 
by  deifying  his  beautiful  page  Antinous,  for  whom  he 
entertained  an  unnatural  affection.  Monuments,  t^^m 
pies,  and  statues,  were  dedicated  to  him,  and  even  a 
city  was  specially  set  apart  for  his  worship.  And  when 
in  the  provinces,  as  was  not  the  case  in  Rome,  at  leai>t 
in  the  beginning,  temples  and  altars  were  erected  co 
the  Emperors  during  their  life-time,  what  sort  of  an 
impression  must  have  been  made  on  their  inhabitants 
when  they  came  to  Rome  and  saw  the  Emperor  Nero, 
the  god  whose  temple  stood  in  their  native  city,  appear 
before  the  people  as  a  player  on  the  cithera,  or  as  a 
singer,  exhibit  his  tricks,  and  then  on  bended  knees 
submissively  await  the  verdict  of  the  assembly.  What 
gods  were  these!  Could  the  inquiry  be  repre<^ed 
whether  the  other  deities  who  were  worshipped  were 
any  better  and  more  worthy  of  confidence  ? 

m.     FOREIGN  RITES   AND  THE   LONGING   FOR  REDEMPTION. 


Nothing  shows  more  conclusively  that  the  people  also 
had  begun  to  lose  confidence  in  their  gods,  than  the 
foreign  cults  which  were  more  and  more  crowding  in. 
For  philosophical  convictions  do  not  take  the  place  of  a 
lost  faith  with  the  multitude  as  they  do  with  the  edu- 
cated. On  the  contrary  there  arises  either  perfect 
indifference  toward  all  religious  rites,  or,  since  such  a 
vacuum  soon  becomes  intolerable,  the  old  gods  are 
.  exchanged  for  new  ones  in  the  hope  that  the  new  may 
«y  prove  more  powerful  than  the  old.  /How  changed  was 
the  religious  life  of  Rome  as  early  even  as  the  beginning 
of  the  Empire.  No  longer  were  seen  there  merely  the 
ancient  and  venerable  brotherhoods  of  priests,  austere 
Vestals  who  guarded  the  sacred  fire,  augurs  and  harus- 


CHAP.  I]  THE   WORLD  SEEKS  NEW  GODS.  63 

pices  who  searched  into  the  future.  Gauls  went  about 
the  streets,  —  priests  of  the  great  goddess  Cybele,  now 
transferred  to  Rome.  Howling  and  with  dishevelled 
hair  they  lashed  themselves  to  blood  with  thongs, 
struck  their  sounding  cymbals,  and  offered  for  a  hun- 
dred eggs  to  ward  off  the  diseases  of  Autumn.  Priests 
cf  the  Egyptian  Isis  were  also  there,  in  long  linen  robes, 
\Tilh  the  dog-mask  before  their  faces,  and  their  peculiar 
r -it  tie  (sistrum)  in  their  hands.  Roman  ladies  thronged 
the  synagogues  of  the  despised  Jews,  and  many  a 
Roman  observed  the  Jewish  Sabbath  in  the  hope  of 
propitiating  the  great  Jehovah.  All  sorts  of  sooth- 
sayers were  there,  —  Chaldseans,  astrologers,  people 
pretending  to  possess  Oriental  wisdom.^^  There  too 
Roman  soldiers,  while  officially  paying  due  honor  to 
their  own  deities,  revered,  though  at  first  only  in  secret, 
an  entirely  new  god  which  they  had  brought  back  witk 
them  from  some  piratical  war,  Mithras,  the  Persian  god 
of  light.  It  was  a  perfect  Babel  of  religions.  Scarcely 
a  type  of  worship  could  be  found  which  had  not  its 
adherents.  Even  the  lowest  form  of  Heathenism,  Feti- 
cism,  reappeared.  The  Emperor  Nero,  having  become 
tired  of  the  goddess  Astarte,  no  longer  worsliipped 
any  deity,  but  only  an  amulet  which  had  been  given 
him.^*  The  ruler  of  a  world-wide  Empire  which  em- 
braced all  culture  had  become  the  devotee  of  a  fetish ! 

The  Roman  laws  against  foreign  rites  were  very 
strict.  Cicero ^^  cites  a  regulation  which  forbade  any 
one  tc  have  gods  separately,  or  privately  to  worship 
new  gods  or  foreign  ones  unless  they  had  been  legally 
sanctioned.  This  forbade  not  only  the  public  introduc- 
tion of  a  new  cultus,  but  also  its  private  observance  at 
home  and  in  retirement.     Livy  gives  the  law  jq  a  some 


(54  FOREIGN  RITES.    REDEMPTION.  [book  i. 

what  milder  form.  According  to  his  statement  foreign 
rites  were  prohibited  only  so  far  as  they  were  practised 
in  public,  or  in  some  sacred  place.^^  xhc  two  accounts 
may  be  reconciled,  perhaps,  by  supposing  that  Cicero 
states  what  was  strictly  legal,  Livy  the  usual  practice. 
The  Romans  were  religiously  scrupulous  about  inter- 
dicting outright  the  cult  of  any  god.  Significant,  in 
this  respect,  is  an  opinion  reported  by  Livy :  "  When 
the  worship  of  the  gods  is  used  as  a  pretext  for  the 
commission  of  crime  the  soul  is  seized  with  fear  lest  in 
punishing  the  human  wickedness,  some  divine  right 
blended  with  it  may  be  violated."  ^  Even  in  the  terri- 
ble suppression  of  the  Bacchanalia  the  government  did 
not  venture  to  wholly  prohibit  this  cult.  Whoever 
deemed  it  a  matter  of  conscience  could  obtain  from  the 
Praetor  permission  for  its  observance,  on  condition  that 
not  more  than  ^yq  persons  should  be  present  at  the 
sacrifice.^  This  explains  why  the  laws  against  foreign 
religions  had  so  little  force.  No  one  ventured  to  exe- 
cute them  with  rigor.  It  would  have  been  lawful  to 
enter  private  houses  and  forbid  such  worship  even 
there ;  but  this  was  not  done,  and  therefore  the  foreign 
cults  came  out  from  the  houses  on  to  the  streets,  and 
the  public  places.  There  was,  also,  an  inconsistency  in 
acknowledging  a  foreign  god  in  his  own  land,  but  not 
in  Rome,  —  as  when,  for  example,  Augustus  declared 
expressly  that  he  spared  the  city  Alexandria  in  honor 
of  the  great  god  Serapis,  and  then  destroyed  his  temple 
in  Rome.^^  Every  nation,  every  province  was  expected 
to  keep  its  own  gods  to  itself.  This  religious  decen- 
tralization, however,  was  not  consistent  with  the  intense 
centralization  in  political  affairs.  A  blending  of  reli- 
gions was  as  essential  to  the  Roman  Empire  as  a  fusion 


«7HAP.  i.l  THE  WORLD  SEEKS  NEW  GODS  65 

of  politics  and  of  nationalities.  Thus  it  came  to  pass 
that  repeated  efforts  on  the  part  of  the  State  to  sup- 
press foreign  rites,  proved  wholly  ineffectual.  However 
quickly  the  Chaldseans  and  astrologers,  or  the  Jews, 
were  expelled  from  Rome,  however  promptly  the  tem- 
ple of  Isis,  or  any  other  foreign  god,  was  closed,  or  the 
laws  against  forbidden  worships  enforced  anew,  the  cur- 
rent waxed  stronger  and  stronger,  until,  a  century  later, 
Roman  Emperors  themselves  built  sanctuaries  for  Isis 
and  Serapis  side  by  side  with  the  temples  of  Jupiter 
and  Vesta ;  noble  Roman  ladies  walked  in  the  proces- 
sions of  Isis,  shaking  costly  golden  sistra,  or,  clad  in 
linen  robes  and  with  bare  feet,  watched  out  the  nighi 
in  her  temple  to  obtain  expiation  for  their  frivolous 
lives.  And,  later  still,  the  sacred  treasures  of  proud 
Rome  herself,  the  Palladium  and  the  eternal  fire,  were 
borne  into  the  newly-built  temple  of  some  obscure  god 
brought  from  some  far  off  place  in  the  East. 

We  stand  here  before  one  of  the  most  significant  of 
phenomena.  The  old  world  had  become  perplexed 
about  its  century  honored  gods,  and  grew  daily  more 
unsettled.  The  time  of  secure  certitude  was  past;  a 
day  of  seeking  and  questioning  had  begun.  Men  sought 
and  asked  for  new  gods,  gods  who  could  fulfil  what 
had  been  promised  in  vain  for  the  old.  The  greater 
the  distance  from  which  a  god  had  been  brought,  the 
more  ancient,  the  more  mysterious  and  singular  his 
cultus,  so  much  the  better,  so  much  greater  the  hope 
that  he  would  be  the  right  one.  Above  all,  —  let  us 
mark  it  well,  —  it  was  Oriental  deities  who  found  most 
adherents.  The  religious  current  flowed  manifestly 
from  East  to  West.  It  was  a  refluent  tide.  From  the 
days  of  Alexander  the   Great   Gr?eco- Roman   culture 


Q()  FOREIGN  RITES.    REDEMPTION.  [book  i 

had  penetrated  deeply  into  the  East.  Olympian  gods 
had  their  temples  hard  by  the  fantastic  deities  of  Syria 
and  the  animal  gods  of  Egypt,  either  crowding  tliem 
out  or  at  least  tlirowing  them  into  the  shade.  Now  the 
stream  flowed  back,  and  the  gods  from  the  Orontes  and 
from  the  Nile  won  a  place  in  Greece  and  Rome,  in  Gaul 
and  on  the  Danube.  This,  also,  was  a  preparation  for 
Christianity.  To  the  world  seeking  for  mightier  gods 
was  preached  the  true  God.  Men  looked  for  a  new 
god  to  the  East;  from  the  East,  according  to  God's 
counsel.  He  was  actually  to  be  proclaimed  to  the  world, 
as  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Let  us  examine  this  momentous  movement  more 
closely.  How  came  it  to  pass  that  the  old  world  was 
perplexed  about  its  gods  ?  The  fact  is  far  too  weighty 
and  significant  to  allow  of  our  even  attempting  to  ex- 
plain it  either  from  any  isolated  causes,  or  from  mere 
personal  influence.  The  scorn  and  mockery  of  a  scepti- 
cal literature  surely  could  not  have  destroyed  faith  if 
it  had  still  possessed  a  vigorous  life.  On  the  contrary, 
this  scorn  and  mockery  set  in  precisely  because  the  old 
faith  was  undermined.  The  wonderful  phenomenon  can 
only  be  explained  by  the  fact  that  a  transformation  had 
been  effected  in  men's  entire  view  of  the  world,  in  the 
fundamental  ideas  by  which  they  were  impelled  and 
controlled.  The  gods  were  siill  the  same  that  they 
had  always  been,  but  they  could  no  longer  be  the  same 
to  men  as  heretofore  because  men  themselves  had 
changed,  because  they  sought  and  asked  for  something 
else,  and  desired  something  different  from  their  gods. 
Let  us  try  to  make  this  change  clear.  Here,  especially, 
shall  we  discover  'hat  the  heathen  world  was  prepared 
for  the  acceptance  of  Christianity,  that  the  fulness  of 
the  time  was  come. 


OTAP.  I.]  THIS  WORLD  AND  THE  NEXT.  67 

Ancient  life  was  directed  to  this  world,  not  to  the 
future.  Pleasure  in  existence,  joy  in  the  ever  new 
glory  of  the  world,  in  the  beauty  and  greatness  of 
human  life,  was  its  fundamental  characteristic.  The 
belief  in  immortality^,  firmly  held  at  least  so  long  as 
pagan  faith  retained  its  vitality,  did  not  at  all  change 
this.  For  the  dead  were  thought  of  as  still  turning 
ever  toward  this  life.  This  was  the  reason  why  men  so 
gladly  buried  their  dead  upon  the  streets  where  many 
persons  were  accustomed  to  pass  (recall,  for  instance, 
the  rows  of  tombs  on  the  Appian  Way  in  Rome) ;  they 
were  to  remain  connected,  as  it  were,  with  the  living. 
So,  likewise,  many  epitaphs  represent  the  dead  as  con- 
tinually holding  intercourse  with  the  living,  as,  for 
example,  this  one :  "  Titus  LoUius  Musculus  is  laid  here 
by  the  way-side  that  those  who  go  by  may  say  :  Hail ! 
Titus  LoUius !  "  ^^  Another  epitaph  contains  a  formal 
colloquy  between  the  buried  man  and  the  passers  by : 
"  Farewell,  Victor  Fabian  I  —  May  the  gods  heap  bless- 
ings upon  you,  my  friends.  And  you,  also,  travellers, 
may  the  gods  protect  you  as  a  reward  for  having  tarried 
a  moment  at  the  tomb  of  Fabian.  May  your  journey 
and  your  return  be  free  from  accident.  And  you  who 
have  brought  me  crowns  and  flowers,  may  you  be  able 
to  do  this  many  years."  ^^  It  was  the  custom  for  those 
who  went  by  a  grave  to  say :  "  The  earth  be  light  upon 
thee  I  "  "  "Whatsoever  wayfarer  goes  by,  let  him  say  at 
tJils  burial  mound :  Rufinus !  Greeting !  The  earth 
be  light  upon  thee !  that  after  his  death  ono  may  als(.> 
wish  for  him  :  The  earth  be  light  upon  thee  I "  runs 
another  inscription.^^  Sacrifices,  also,  and  libations 
were  offered,  and  meals  eaten  at  the  graves.  Wreaths 
of  roses  and  violets  were  laid  upon  them,  and  the  dead 


08  rOREIGN  RITES.    REDEMPTION.  [book  i 

were  supposed  to  rejoice  in  the  light  of  the  grave-lamp 
and  in  the  fragrance  rising  from  the  sweet-scented  oil. 
The  horrors  of  death  were  veiled  from  men.  They 
lived  joyously  in  the  present  with  little  concern  about 
death  and  eternity.  They  knew  not  the  word :  "  The 
wages  of  sin  is  death." 

Sin,  also,  was  still  veiled  from  men.  It  was  the  times 
of  ignorance,  as  Paul  says  (Acts  xvii.  30) ;  for  as  the 
tendency  of  ancient  life  was  toward  this  world  not  the 
other,  so  it  was  occupied  with  what  is  without,  rather 
than  with  that  which  is  within  man.  Hence  the  in- 
clination for  art,  especially  for  architecture  and  sculp- 
ture. Hence  the  taste  for  decoration,  the  fondness  for 
the  theatre,  the  predilection  for  spectacles  of  every 
kind,  for  pomps  and  triumphal  processions.  Hence, 
too,  the  absorption  of  the  man  in  the  citizen.  Man  as 
man  had  no  value,  the  infinite  worth  of  a  human  soul 
was  not  yet  recognized.  The  word  of  the  Lord :  "  What 
is  a  man  profited  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world  and 
lose  his  own  soul,"  is  a  wisdom  that  was  hidden  from  an- 
tiquity. Men  looked  without  not  within,  not  into  their 
own  hearts,  therefore  they  did  not  find  sin.  They  did 
not  attempt  to  look  any  more  deeply  into  Nature.  The 
natural  science  of  the  ancients  did  not  go  beyond  mere 
external  description.  With  a  vivid  sense  of  the  beauty 
of  Nature  they  lacked  susceptibility  to  its  grandeur  and 
sublimity.  The  glory  of  the  Alpine  world  never  dawned 
upon  the  Romans.^^  They  liked  only  gentle  and  pleas- 
ing landscapes.  Christianity  first  unlocked  the  sense 
for  Nature,  by  teaching  us  to  understand  a  creation 
groaning  with  us,  and  by  showing  the  connection  of 
Nature  with  ourselves  and  our  own  life. 

The  great  transformation  which  now  took  place  wa« 


.  I.]  WHAT  IS   VRUTH?  69 

the  turning  from  what  is  without  to  what  is  within, 
from  this  life  to  the  life  to  come.  If  we  trace  this 
change  up  to  its  origin  we  may  say,  it  begins  with  the 
word  of  Socrates :  "  Know  thyself."  From  this  aphor- 
ism may  be  dated  the  dissolution  of  ancient  life,  from 
this  point  it  turned  to  a  new  life  which  came  into  the 
world  with  the  call  of  which  that  word  of  the  greatest 
sage  of  Greece  was  only  an  anticipation  :  "  Repent,  for 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand."  Man  as  man  was 
now  respected,  the  real  Ego  came  to  the  front,  the  devel- 
opment of  personality  proper  became  of  chief  impor- 
tance. Though  at  first  apprehended  only  in  a  pagan  way 
and  with  reference  to  the  present  life,  the  question  of 
salvation  arose :  How  may  I  become  happy  ?  how  shall 
I  attain  peace  ?  This  was  the  great  question  which  now 
occupied  the  wise,  over  which  the  centuries  wearied  them- 
selves, to  come  at  last  to  the  conclusion  that  all  is  in 
vain.  But  when  the  ancient  world  had  reached  this 
point,  it  was  able  to  listen  to  the  message  of  salvation 
by  grace. 

Whoever  will  be  happy  must  strive  after  knowledge. 
The  wise,  the  well-educated  man  is  the  happy  man.  To 
him  is  the  hidden  nature  of  things  revealed,  and  to 
him,  the  man  of  understanding,  evil  has  become  unreal. 
But  can  we  know  any  thing?  know  with  certainty? 
One  philosophical  school  followed  another.  What  one 
proclaimed  for  truth  was  denied  by  its  successor ;  the 
end  was  complete  scepticism,  doubt,  and  despair  of  all 
truth.  "  What  is  truth  ?  "  asked  Pilate,  and  with  him 
multitudes  of  his  contemporaries.  In  long  array  Cicero 
adduces  the  doctrines  of  different  philosophers  concern- 
ing the  human  soul,  and  then  adds :  "  Which  of  these 
opinions  may  be  true,  a  god  mav  know ;  which  may  be 


TO  FOREIGN  RITES.    REDEMPTION.  [book  i. 

only  probable  is  a  difficult  question."  ^^  Ah !  if  one 
only  might  have  a  guide  to  truth,  sighs  Seneca.''^  Thus 
men  now  looked  for  guides;  Plato,  Pythagoias,  the 
ancient  philosophers,  must  be  such.  The  quest  went 
beyond  the  Greeks ;  Egjrptian,  Indian  wisdom  seemed 
to  offer  still  greater  assurance.  Thus  something 
brought  from  far,  replete  with  mystery,  inspired  confi- 
dence at  first.  Here  too  men  discovered  that  they  were 
deceived.  "We  will  wait,"  Plato  had  already  said, 
"for  One,  be  it  a  god  or  a  god-inspired  man,  to  teach 
as  our  religious  duties,  and,  as  Athene  in  Homer  says 
to  Diomed,  to  take  away  the  darkness  from  our  eyes,"  " 
and  in  another  place ;  "  We  must  lay  hold  of  the  best 
human  opinion  in  order  that  borne  by  it  as  on  a  raft  we 
may  sail  over  the  dangerous  sea  of  life,  unless  we  can 
find  a  stronger  boat,  or  some  word  of  God,  which  will 
more  surely  and  safely  carry  us.""^  The  old  world, 
convinced  of  the  fragility  of  its  self-constructed  float, 
now  desired  this  stancher  vessel ;  confused  by  its  own 
wisdom,  it  longed  for  a  Revelation. 

There  were  two  leading  ways  by  which  happiness  was 
liought.  Enjoy !  said  Epicurus.  Enjoy  to  the  full  the 
good  things  of  this  life,  this  is  the  way  to  happiness. 
Forego !  exhorted  the  Stoic,  or,  to  speak  with  the  chief 
representative  of  this  school  in  the  age  of  the  Empe- 
rors, Epictetus :  Abstain  and  endure  !  True  happiness 
is  only  to  be  found  in  tranquillity  of  spirit  wherein 
man,  renouncing  all  things  and  calmly  accepting  what 
fate  appoints  for  him,  allows  nothing  to  disquiet  him. 
The  Stoic  school  was  the  leading  one  in  the  time  of  the 
Empire ;  all  thought  which  dealt  with  the  more  serious 
questions  belonged  to  it  in  greater  or  less  degree.  Hap- 
piness was  not  to  be  found  in  enjoyment,  therefore  it 


CHiP.  I.]  PESSIMISM.  71 

was  sought  in  renunciation!  The  Scepticism,  also,  of 
which  we  have  before  spoken,  was  itself  a  renunciation 
—  a  despair  of  attaining  to  assured  knowledge.  The 
times,  too,  were  no  longer  favorable  to  enjoyment,  they 
preached  abstinence  loudly  enough.  For  the  world 
once  so  gay  had  become  more  and  more  gloomy.  The 
days  were  past  when  in  sunny  Greece  men  built  the 
Parthenon,  and  rejoiced  in  the  creations  of  a  Phidias 
and  Praxitsles;  departed,  also,  from  Rome  were  the 
days  of  republican  greatness  when  men  lived  and  strove 
for  father-land.  The  One,  the  Emperor,  was  now  all, 
and  there  was  no  longer  room  for  men  like  the  Gracchi 
and  the  Scipios.  To  be  sure  it  seemed  as  if  society 
under  the  first  Emperors,  when  men  revelled  in  the 
treasures  of  a  conquered  world,  was  everywhere  joyous. 
But  it  was  not  really  so  bright  as  it  appeared.  Men 
were  not  satisfied.  That  refined  luxury,  those  voluptu- 
ous banquets,  those  orgies  became  themselves  sources 
of  pain.  One  symptom  of  such  dissatisfaction  was  the 
widely-spread  inclination  to  dream  one's  self  back  into 
simpler  times,  when  the  cows  still  pastured  on  the  Pala- 
tine, and  Senators,  clad  in  the  skins  of  animals,  counselled 
on  the  meadow.  It  was  precisely  as  in  the  last  century, 
when  men  were  enraptured  by  Rousseau.^*  The  age  in 
which  the  treasures  of  the  world  were  squandered  in 
luxurious  pleasure,  ran  swiftly  enough  to  its  end.  Un- 
der Emperors  like  Caligula  and  Nero,  all  property,  all 
pleasure,  life  itself,  became  insecure.  And  while  some, 
indeed,  solicitous  to  spend  all  the  more  quickly  an 
existence  which  was  uncertain,  sought  in  the  most 
refined  revelry  compensation  for  the  higher  good  life  no 
longer  afforded,  from  others  were  heard  for  this  very 
reason  all  the  more  frequent  complaints  of  the  corrup- 


72  FOREIGN  EITES.    REDEMPTION.  [book  i 

tion  of  the  world,  and  the  vanity  of  all  that  is  earthly 
The  view  of  life  as  a  whole  became  more  and  more 
pessimistic. 

Such  tones  were  not  unfamiliar  to  Greece,  even  in 
its  palmy  days.  From  Homer  on,  a  low,  yet  distinct 
lamentation  sounds  through  all  its  splendor,  testify- 
ing to  a  misgiving  that  something  was  wanting,  that 
the  solution  of  the  riddle  of  the  world  believed  to 
have  been  found,  could  not  be  the  right  one.  How 
Plomer  sighs  over  the  frailty  of  men.  They  fade  like 
leaves,  no  being  is  more  miserable.  Like  shadows,  says 
Pindar,  like  a  dream,  says  ^schylus,  they  pass  away. 
Ever  recurs  the  thought :  it  were  best  never  to  have 
been  born ;  the  next  best,  to  die  early ;  and  with  pro- 
found sadness  Sophocles  gives  expression  to  this  senti- 
ment in  the  (Edipus  at  Colonus  : 

"  Happiest  beyond  compare 
Never  to  taste  of  life ; 
Happiest  in  order  next, 
Being  bom,  with  quickest  speed 
Thither  again  to  turn 
From  whence  we  came."'* 

These  tones  became  unmistakably  stronger  and 
stronger,  the  lamentation  louder,  the  resignation  great- 
er. According  to  Homer  ^^  two  jars  stand  in  the  palace 
of  Zeus,  one  with  evil,  one  with  good,  gifts  for  men. 
Later,  there  were  two  with  evil  gifts,  and  only  one 
with  good,  and,  later  still,  Simonides  says:  "Sorrow 
follows  sorrow  so  quickly  that  not  even  the  air  can 
penetrate  between  them."  ^^  Happiness  was  no  longer 
the  goal  of  Philosophy.  Men  despaired  of  attaining  it. 
''  The  aim  of  all  Philosophy,"  says  Seneca, "  is  to  despise 


CHAP.  I.]  LONGING  FOR  ANOTHER  LIFE.  78 

life."     Here,  too.  Heathenism  ended  m  barrenness  and 

sheer  despair,  and  at  last  the  only  comfort  was  ihat 
'nen  are  free  to  leave  this  miserable  world  by  suicide. 
P(r(et  eodtus !  The  way  out  of  this  life  stands  open  I 
That  is  the  last  consolation  of  expiring  Heathenism. 
"  Seest  thou,"  exclaims  Seneca,  "  yon  steep  height  '^ 
Thent^e  is  the  descent  to  freedom.  Seest  thou  yon 
sea,  yon  river,  yon  well  ?  F'reedom  sits  there  in  the 
depths.  Seest  thou  yon  low,  withered  tree?  There 
freedom  hangs.  Seest  thou  thy  neck,  thy  throat,  thy 
heait?  They  are  ways  of  escape  from  bondage."  ^* 
Can  the  bankruptcy  of  heathenism  be  more  plainly  de- 
clared than  in  these  words  ?  Despairing  of  every  kind 
of  happiness  it  had  no  further  consolation  for  the  evils 
of  this  life  than  suicide,  and  it  knew  no  other  victory 
over  the  world  than  this  flight  out  of  it.  But  who  does 
not  also  hear  how  the  cry  breaks  forth  ever  louder 
and  louder  from  the  heathen  world :  "  O  wretched  man 
that  I  am !  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this 
death?" 

If  happiness  cannot  be  found  in  this  life,  men  look 
all  the  more  longingly  to  the  next.  The  thought  of 
another  world  was  not  unknown  to  the  ancient  Greeks 
and  Romans,  but  it  was  for  them  only  one  of  shadows. 
This  world  alone  was  real,  alone  offered  true  happi- 
ness ;  the  other  was  the  gloomy,  joyless,  lower  world. 
Ulysses,  in  Homer,  sees  the  dead  as  shadows  greedily 
drink  the  blood  which  for  a  moment  at  least  restores 
to  them  real  life,  and  Achilles  would  rather  linger-  upon 
earth  in  the  lowest  station  than  be  a  king  among  the 
shades.*^^  Men  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  that  other 
world.  The  heathen  through  life  were  slaves  to  the 
fear  of  death.     "  My  temples  are  gray,"  sings  the  pleas 


74  FOREIGN  RITES.    REDEMPTION.  [book  i 

uro-ioving  Anacreoii,^^  "  and  white  my  head ;  beautiful 
youth  is  gone.  Not  much  remains  of  sweet  life. 
Therefore  I  often  sigh,  fearing  Tartarus,  dreadful  abyss 
of  Hades.  Full  of  horror  is  the  descent  thither,  and 
whoever  has  once  gone  down  there  never  returns." 
But  the  less  this  world  fulfilled  what  it  promised,  and 
the  more  its  evil  and  its  emptiness  were  felt,  and  the 
gpirit  of  resignation  was  developed,  the  more  was  this 
view  reversed.  Life  in  this  world  began  to  be  looked 
upon  as  shadowy,  and  the  true  life  was  sought  first  in 
the  life  to  come.  Joy  in  existence,  in  the  beauty  and 
glory  of  the  earth  and  of  human  life,  disappeared ;  the 
consciousness  of  weakness,  of  the  limitations  of  human 
nature,  the  sense  of  the  vanity  of  all  earthly  things, 
increased.  The  body  was  now  spoken  of  as  the  prison 
of  the  soul,^^  and  death,  which  Anacreon  dreaded  as  a 
fearful  descent  into  Tartarus,  was  extolled  as  an  eman- 
cipation. "After  death,"  says  Cicero,  "we  shall  foi 
the  first  time  truly  live."  ^^  How  often  in  the  schools 
of  the  rhetoricians  is  this  theme  discussed:  Death  no 
evil !  How  often  the  thought  recurs  in  Seneca,  that  the 
body  is  only  an  inn  for  the  spirit,  that  the  other  world 
is  its  real  home.  Indeed,  just  as  did  the  primitive 
Christians,  he  calls  the  day  of  death  "  the  birth-day  of 
eternity."  ^3  While,  however,  the  glory  of  this  world 
faded  before  the  eyes  of  men,  tt^e  other  grew  in  distinct 
uess  and  reality ;  and  more  thaii  once  we  meet  in  liter- 
ature and  in  works  of  art  with  pictures  of  the  future 
life  as  one  of  joy,  a  symposium,  a  banquet,  where  the 
souls  of  the  departed  rejoice  together  with  gods,  heroes 
and  sages.  Already  had  Cicero  in  the  Dream  of  Scipio 
thus  described  the  other  life,  and  Seneca  paints  it  yet 
more  vividly.      Plutarch  delights  to   contemplate  it, 


dHAP.  I.]  HOPELESSNESS.  75 

and  rejoices  that  there  "  God  will  be  our  Leader  and 
King,  and  that  in  closest  union  with  Him  we  shall  un- 
weariedly  and  with  ardent  longing  behold  that  beauty 
which  is  ineffable  and  cannot  be  expressed  to  men."^ 

Is  there  then  another  world?  Heathenism  now  stood 
face  to  face  with  this  great  question,  and  was  wholh 
unable  to  make  any  reply.  Many  answered  it  with  a 
resigned  No !  Caesar,  indeed,  had  once  said  in  the 
Senate  with  cool  composure:  "Beyond  this  life  there 
is  no  place  for  either  trouble  or  joy,"  and  Cato  had  ap- 
provingly responded :  "Beautifully  and  excellently  has 
Caius  Caesar  spoken  in  this  assembly  concerning  life 
and  death,  esteeming  as  false  those  things  which  are 
related  of  the  lower  world."  ^  Indeed  we  find  not  a 
few  sepulchral  inscriptions  which  confirm  the  apostle's 
declaration  that  the  heathen  are  "without  hope."  We 
read :  "  To  eternal  sleep !  "  "  To  eternal  rest  I  "  Or 
the  0x1  recurring  distich :  "  I  was  not,  and  became :  I 
was,  and  am  no  more.  This  much  is  true,  whoever 
says  otherwise  does  not  speak  the  truth,  for  I  shall  not 
be !  "  or,  "  We  all,  whom  Death  has  laid  low,  are  decay- 
ing bones  and  ashes,  nothing  else !  "  or,  "  I  was  nought, 
and  am  nought.  Thou  who  readest  this:  Eat,  drink, 
make  merry,  come !  "  ^^  Many  inscriptions  blend  with 
resignation  a  tone  of  frivolity.  Thus  we  read  on  the 
grave-stone  of  a  veteran  of  the  Fifth  Legion :  "  So  long 
as  I  lived,  I  gladly  drank ;  drink,  ye  who  live  I "  ^^ 
Complete  resignation  is  expressed  by  Pliny :  ^^  "  What 
folly  is  it  to  renew  life  after  death!  Where  shall 
created  beings  find  rest  if  you  suppose  that  shades  in 
hell,  and  souls  in  heaven,  continue  to  have  any  feeling. 
You  rob  us  of  man's  greatest  good,  death.  Let  us 
rather  find  in  the  tranquillity  which  nreceded  oiu*  ex- 


76  FOREIGN  RITES.    REDEMPTION.  [book  h 

fetence,  the  pledge  of  the  repose  which  is  to  follow  it." 
Still  more  decidedly  Lucretius :  "  The  fear  of  the  lower 
world  must  be  driven  headlong  forth.  It  poisons  life 
to  its  lowest  depths,  it  spreads  over  all  things  the  black 
ness  of  death,  it  leaves  no  pleasure  pure  and  unal- 
loyed." Utter  annihilation  was  its  consolation.  "  When 
we  have  ceased  to  be,  nothing  can  excite  our  feelings, 
nothing  disturb  our  rest,  even  though  heaven,  earth, 
and  sea  should  be  commingled."  ^^  Yet  Plutarch  had 
already  replied :  "  What  is  gained  by  substituting  for 
fear  of  the  lower  world  dread  of  annihilation.  It  is 
as  if  one  should  say  to  passengers  in  a  vessel  who  are 
frightened  by  a  storm :  Keep  calm,  the  ship  will  soon 
go  to  the  bottom."  ^^  Others  left  it  uncertain  whether 
all  is  over  at  death,  or  not.  The  celebrated  physician 
Galen,  no  doubt,  only  expressed  the  conviction  of 
thousands  when,  not  venturing  himself  to  decide  the 
question,  he  said  that  he  intended  as  little  to  affirm  as 
to  deny  immortality ;  ^  and  there  is  almost  a  touch  of 
pathos  in  what  Tacitus  writes  in  his  life  of  Agricola : 
"  If  there  is  a  place  for  the  spirits  of  the  pious,  if  as 
the  wise  suppose,  great  souls  do  not  become  extinct  with 
their  bodies : "  .  .  .^^  "If"  — in  that  If  lies  the  utter 
disconsolateness,  the  whole  torturing  uncertainty,  and 
no  less  the  ardent  longing  of  Heathenism.  If?  Who 
gave  the  answer?  Men  sought  and  asked  here  and 
there ;  no  other  question  so  occupied  all  the  profounder 
minds  as  did  the  question  of  immortality;  now  they 
believed  that  the  Eastern  religions  would  shed  light, 
for  these  religions  revolved  wholly  about  birth  and 
death;  now  they  knocked  at  the  gates  of  the  under 
world  with  magic  formulas,  adjurations  and  rites  of 
consecration.    But  no  answer.    Tht  more  joyless  this 


HAP.  i]  CONSCIOUSNESS  OF  SIN.  77 

world  became,  the  more  every  thing  faded  which  in  the 
freshness  of  youth  had  shone  so  brightly,  the  State, 
Art,  Science  offering  no  more  satisfaction,  public  life 
affording  no  longer  a  field  for  activity,  private  life, 
property,  pleasure,  life  itself  becoming  insecure,  so 
much  the  more  did  men  long  for  another  world  whose 
portals  still  stood  closed  before  them.  With  what 
power  then  must  have  come  the  preaching  of  thia 
word :  "  Christ  is  risen  !  The  wages  of  sin  is  death : 
but  the  gift  of  God  is  eternal  life  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord."  Nothing  led  more  believers  to  Christianity, 
even  from  cultivated  circles,  than  the  sure  answer  it 
gave  to  the  question  respecting  another  world,  and  the 
hope  it  offered  of  eternal  life  to  those  whose  earthly 
expectations  had  been  destroyed. 

But  the  question  of  a  future  life  necessarily  raises  a 
further  question.  If  there  is  another  life  how  can  men 
secure  it?  How  may  they  attain  to  the  communion  of 
the  blest  ?  The  consciousness  of  sin  also  now  began  to 
awake,  and  with  it  the  same  question.  Strictly  speak- 
ing the  ancient  world  knew  nothing  of  sin.  It  deplored 
the  need,  the  misery,  the  transitoriness  of  human  life  ; 
but  it  had  no  conception  of  the  corruption  of  human 
nature.  Sin  as  a  defection  from  God,  sin  as  guilt,  was 
liidden  from  it.  In  this  respect,  too,  there  was  now  a 
change.  Seneca  discourses  of  the  depravity  of  man  in 
words  which  have  often  been  thought  to  sound  like 
Paul's.  "  We  have  all  binned,  some  grievously,  others 
more  lightly,  some  purposely,  others  accidentally  im- 
pelled or  led  astray,  and  not  only  have  we  transgressed, 
we  shall  continue  to  do  so  till  the  end  of  life."  "  It 
was  the  complaint  of  our  ancestors,  it  is  our  own,  it 
will  be  that  of  posterity,  that  morals  are  subverted, 


78  FOREIGN  RITES.    REDEMPTION.  [boor  i 

that  corruption  reigns."  Seneca  sought  for  the  cause 
of  this  in  man  himself.  "  The  human  mind  is  by  na 
ture  perverse,  and  strives  for  what  is  forbidden.  Om 
fault  is  not  external  to  us,  it  is  within  us  and  cleaves 
to  our  souls."  ^  Indeed  Plutarch  openly  expresses  the 
idea  of  an  evil  principle.  "For,  since  nothing  can  arise 
without  a  cause,  and  good  cannot  be  the  ground  of  evil, 
therefore  evil  as  well  as  good  must  have  a  special  ori- 
gin."^  The  conviction  now  became  wide-spread  that 
•nan  as  he  is  cannot  enter  into  the  society  of  the  blessed, 
but  only  when  he  is  purified  and  cleansed  from  sins, 
when  he  is  transformed  and  renewed.  For  this  the 
old  gods  and  their  cults  were  insuiOficient.  The  Olym- 
pian deities  were  gods  for  the  prosperous;  they  satis- 
fied men  so  long  as  life  shone  in  the  serene  light  of  a 
beautiful  present.  A  man  conscious  of  sin,  anxious 
for  salvation  found  them  inadequate  to  his  needs  The 
Capitoline  Jupiter,  Vesta,  Victoria,  were  Statt;  gods. 
They  sufficed,  so  long  as  the  man  was  absorbed  in  the 
citizen.  They  were  gods  for  publicity.  A  man  who 
turned  his  gaze  in  upon  himself,  who  looked  into  the 
depravity  of  his  own  heart,  who  sought  for  peace, 
could  no  longer  rest  in  them.  This  was  the  deepest 
reason  why  the  heathen  were  perplexed  about  their 
gods,  why  men  turned  pre-eminently  to  the  Oriental 
cults  with  their  gloomy  sadness,  their  penances  and 
purifications,  why  the  mysteries  now  became  universal 
instead  of  local,  and  new  ones  were  added  to  the  old 
with  ever  increasing  extravagance.  It  is  the  awakened 
need  of  Redemption  which  is  mirrored  in  all  this.  Let 
us  reflect  a  moment  on  the  character  of  the  Roman 
religion  as  above  described.  It  was  predominantly  a 
ceremonial  service.     Men  kept  their  accounts  with  the 


CHAP.  I.]  PRESAGES  OF  REDEMPTION.  79 

gods  in  order  by  the  punctual  performance  of  the  pre* 
scribed  rites.  Priests,  in  the  exact  sense  of  the  word, 
mediators  between  God  and  men,  were  unknown.  The 
magistrates  offered  sacrifices ;  the  priest  was  only  a  mas- 
ter of  ceremonies.  There  were  no  expiations,  properly 
speaking,  —  there  was  no  sense  of  need  of  them,  for 
there  was  no  consciousness  that  man  by  sin  is  separated 
from  God.  There  was  no  desire  to  approach  the  gods ; 
nothing  was  more  remote  from  the  dry  prosaic  Roman 
cultus  than  such  mystical  excitements.  Therefore,  the 
more  the  consciousness  of  sin  awoke,  the  less  did  the 
Roman  cultus  satisfy.  What  was  lacking  in  it  the 
oriental  religions  offered  in  richest  measure.  They  had 
a  priesthood  which  undertook  to  reconcile  man  with 
Deity;  they  had  purifications  and  propitiations;  they 
offered  to  m?.n  a  religion  which  corresponded  to  what 
he  now  required,  that  he  be  brought  into  immediate 
contact  with  God.  Hence  the  current  that  now  set 
from  the  East  to  the  West,  hence  the  power  which  the 
religions  of  the  Orient  gained  over  men's  minds. 

In  this  way  the  anticipation  became  more  general 
that  Redemption  would  soon  dawn.  For  this  also 
men's  eyes  turned  to  the  East.  From  thence  was  help 
to  come.  These  presentiments  clothed  themselves  partly 
in  heathen  garb.  The  cycle  of  the  ages,  it  was  said, 
is  completed.  The  golden  age  has  been  followed  by 
the  silver,  this  by  the  iron.  Now  this  also,  is  passing 
away;  then  will  the  cycles  begin  anew,  Saturn  will 
again  assume  the  government,  and  the  golden  age  re- 
turn. In  part  however  these  presages  bore  a  Jewish 
coloring,  and  their  origin  in  Hebrew  prophecy  can  be 
more  or  less  clearly  perceived.  Suetonius  and  Tacitus 
both  report  a  wide-spread  rumor  that  the  Orient  would 


go  FOREIGN  RITES.    REDEMPTION.  [BOOK  i 

become  powerful,  and  the  dominioD  of  the  world  be 
assigned  by  Fate  to  the  Jews.  Even  among  the  Roman 
legions  which  Titus  led  against  Je.iisalem  there  were 
indications  of  such  thoughts.  They  looked  on  the 
holy  city  which  they  were  come  to  destroy  with  a  cer- 
tain superstitious  awe,  and  even  during  the  siege  there 
were  not  wanting  deserters  who  could  bring  nothing 
else  to  the  city  encircled  with  iron  arms  than  the  ex- 
pectation of  some  extraordinary  divine  aid,  and  the 
hope  of  participating  in  the  dominion  promised  to  it. 
Remarkably  do  these  presentiments  re-echo  in  the  Fourth 
Eclogue  of  Virgil.  The  poet  there  celebrates  a  child 
who  shall  restore  the  Golden  Age,  in  pictures  which, 
directly  or  indirectly,  are  derived  from  the  ninth  and 
eleventh  chapters  of  Isaiah.  The  boy  descends  from 
heaven,  then  peace  prevails  on  the  earth  which  without 
culture  liberally  yields  its  gifts,  the  herds  are  no  longer 
afraid  of  the  lions,  the  yoke  is  taken  ofP  from  the  ox, 
and  the  vine-dresser  toils  no  more  in  the  sweat  of  his 
brow.  It  is  supposed  that  these  words  are  to  be  applied 
to  a  son  of  Asinius  PoUio.  If  this  is  correct  the  illusion 
was  indeed  great.  This  very  child  of  whom  Virgil 
sings  as  Messiah,  when  grown  to  manhood,  became  one 
of  Nero's  numerous  victims,  and  starved  himself  to 
death  in  prison.^* 

So  the  prophecy  of  the  coming  salvation  went  forth 
from  Israel  into  the  heathen  world.  We  come  thus  to 
ftn  element  which  we  have  not  yet  considered,  but 
which  was  of  great  importance  among  the  religioug 
factors  of  that  age,  Judaism. 


CHAP.  I.]  THE  MISSION  OF  ISRAEL.  81 

IV.      JUDAISM. 

Israel's  mission  was  twofold.  It  was  to  be  the  birth 
place  of  the  Christian  Church,  and  to  prepare  a  way  for 
it  among  the  heathen.  At  first  glance  the  two  seem 
essentially  opposed,  yet  in  Israel  the  apparent  contra- 
diction was  wonderfully  reconciled.  In  order  to  become 
the  birthplace  of  Christianity,  Israel  was  neressarily  ^ 
chosen  people,  separated  from  all  the  heathen,  indeed 
strongly  antagonistic  to  them,  as  the  sole  possessor  of  a 
divine  revelation,  and  alone  knowing  the  living  God 
whose  will  had  been  made  known  to  them  in  the  law. 
That  they  might  pave  the  way  for  Christianity  among 
the  heathen,  it  was  necessary  that  the  Jews  should  be 
dispersed  among  them,  dwell  in  the  midst  of  them,  and 
be  in  constant  intercourse  with  them.  In  every  respect 
the  Jews  were  qualified  to  meet,  these,  at  first  view, 
irreconcilable  demands.  The  country  assigned  them  as 
a  dwelling-place  was  specially  adapted  to  this  end.  Pal- 
estine was  a  secluded  land,  shut  in  like  a  garden  by 
mountains,  deserts,  and  sea,  yet  opening  on  all  sides  to 
other  lands,  and  affording  easy  access  to  the  chief  cen- 
tres of  the  world.  The  character  of  the  people  was 
suited  to  the  same  purpose.  No  nation  possessed  so 
marked  an  individuality,  none  at  the  same  time  was  so 
endowed  for  universality :  none  preserved  so  tenaciously 
its  own  peculiarities,  and  remained,  even  in  the  midst 
of  other  nations,  so  distinct  and  exclusive,  and  yet 
none  understood  so  well  the  art  of  everywhere  pushing 
itself  into  favor,  and  adapting  itself  to  circumstances. 
The  Jew  settled  as  a  citizen  in  all  regions,  knew  how 
everywhere  to  make  a  place  for  himself,  and  yet  every- 
where remained  a  «Iew.     The  wa,y  in  which  the  people 


32  JUDAISM.  [BOOK  L 

had  been  led  was  another  qualification.  "  Get  thee  out 
of  thy  country  and  from  thy  kindred."  This  call  of 
Abraham  was  the  beginning  of  Jewish  history.  It  began 
with  separation,  and  for  centuries  all  God's  dealings  with 
the  chosen  people  had  this  design,  to  set  them  apart, 
to  seclude  them,  to  establish  their  national  character. 
Then  there  came  a  change,  and  every  thing  tended  to 
their  dispersion.  The  Captivity  was  the  turning  point. 
From  this  time  on,  with  Palestinian  Judaism  appeared 
the  Judaism  of  the  Dispersion  —  the  Diaspora;  with 
the  Temple,  the  ritual  centre  of  the  entire  nation,  the 
Synagogue,  promoting  doctrine  more  than  ritual,  yet 
creating  in  all  countries  and  cities  new  centres  of  Jew- 
ish life ;  with  the  Hebrew  Old  Testament,  the  Septua- 
gint,  appointed  to  carry  to  the  Heathen  also  the  Law, 
the  Prophets,  and  the  Psalms  of  David.  Palestinian 
Judaism,  with  the  Temple  and  the  Hebrew  Old  Testa- 
ment, was  in  the  highest  degree  a  centralizing  power. 
To  it  gravitated  all  the  countless  scattered  Jewish  con- 
gregations. The  Diaspora,  with  the  Synagogue  and 
the  Septuagint,  was  a  widely  operative  centrifugal 
power ;  through  it  Israel  became  a  messenger  of  God, 
a  missionary  to  the  heathen  world. 

Only  a  part  of  the  Jewish  people  had  returned  from 
the  Captivity.  The  larger  portion  had  either  remained 
in  Babylon,  or  wandered  to  other  lands.  This  number 
was  continually  increased,  partly  by  those  who  had 
been  carried  away  prisoners  of  war,  and  through  their 
own  industry,  and  because  the  Romans  knew  not  what 
to  do  with  such  strange  superstitious  people,  had 
acquired  freedom  and  remained  in  foreign  countries, 
and  partly  by  those  who  had  voluntarily  left  over-popu- 
lous Palestine  for  purposes  of  gain  elsewhere.     Thus 


CHAP.  I.]  DISPERSION  OF  THE  JEWS.  8S 

the  Jews  were  scattered  over  the  whole  Roman  Empire, 
and  even  beyond  it.  "  Already,"  says  the  Geographer 
Strabo,^  "  a  Jewish  population  has  entered  every  city 
and  it  is  not  easy  to  find  a  place  in  the  habitable  world 
which  has  not  received  this  race,  and  is  not  possessed 
by  it."  Naturally  they  were  most  strongly  represented 
in  the  Eastern  countries.  Babylonia  and  Eastern  Syria-. 
In  Egypt,  they  constituted  more  than  one-eighth  of  the 
entire  population ;  and  in  Leontopolis  they  had  a  tem- 
ple of  their  own,  whose  erection,  it  is  true,  was  di.iap- 
proved  by  those  dwelling  in  Palestine,  yet  was  carried 
through  without  actual  schism.  In  Alexandria,  that 
great  commercial  centre,  they  occupied  two  of  its  five 
wards;  and  were  scattered  throughout  the  others.* 
Not  less  numerous  were  they  in  Antioch,  that  metropo- 
lis on  the  other  side  of  Palestine.  Antiochus  the  Great 
had  transplanted  thousands  of  Jewish  families  to  Phry- 
gia  and  Lydia.  From  there  they  spread  over  aU  of 
Asia  Minor,  and  thence  found  their  way  into  Greece. 
Taurus  in  Cilicia,  Ephesus  in  Asia,  were  centres  of 
Jewish  life.  Throughout  Greece,  in  Northern  Africa, 
in  Sicily  and  in  Italy  were  Jewish  settlements.  In 
Rome  under  Augustus  the  Jews  numbered  perhaps 
40,000,  in  the  time  of  Tiberius  perhaps  80,000.  They 
occupied  the  fourteenth  district,  across  the  Tiber,  and  a 
part  of  the  city  near  the  Porta  Capena,  the  beginning 
of  the  Appian  way.  Their  residences  stood,  also,  ir.  the 
most  aristocratic  portion  of  the  city.  The  existence 
of  seven  synagogues  in  Rome  has  been  dennitely  estab- 
lished, and  probably  there  were  others.  In  Spain,  in 
Gaul,  even  as  far  as  Britain,  representatives  of  the 
Jews  were  not  wanting,  and  the  recent  discovery  of  one 
of  their  cemeteries  of  the  first  century  proves  their 
presence  in  the  lands  of  the  Danube.^'' 


84  JUDAISM.  Tbook  r, 

Their  principal  business  was  trade.  Retailing,  ped- 
dling, and  especially  the  smaller  money-transactions  (the 
larger  were  carried  on  by  the  Roman  knights,  the  bank- 
ers of  that  time)  were  almost  wholly  in  their  hands, 
and  they  prosecuted  this  traffic  with  such  characteristic 
industry  and  shrewdness  that  the  cities  of  Asia  MinoT 
complained  to  the  Emperor  that  they  were  completely 
drained  by  the  Jews.  The  wholesale  trade,  also,  was 
in  many  places  entirely  under  their  control.  In  Alex- 
andria they  almost  monopolized  the  corn-trade,  and 
carried  on  an  extensive  traffic  with  the  more  distant 
East.  Wherever  money  was  to  be  made,  there  the 
Jew,  especially  if  liberalized,  was  to  be  found.  We 
meet  him  in  Rome  as  scholar,  poet,  actor,  and  even 
singer.     "  The  Jews  sell  every  thing,"  says  Juvenal. 

Though  in  the  writings  of  the  Roman  poet  just 
named,  and  of  others,  the  Jews  appear  as  a  beggarly 
race,^  —  the  father  buying  old  glass  and  other  rubbish, 
the  children  peddling  matches,  — many  of  them  obtained 
great  wealth;  and  this  wealth,  together  with  their 
adroitness  in  improving  every  favorable  opportunity  to 
put  themselves  unconditionally  at  the  service  of  what- 
ever government  was  in  power,  though  at  heart  un- 
friendly to  the  entire  constitution  of  the  State  and 
indifferent  to  its  weal  and  woe,  had  procured  for  them 
important  privileges.  They  were  exempt  from  military 
duty,  99  and  from  the  payment  of  certain  taxes,  and 
could  not  be  summoned  on  the  Sabbath  before  a 
court  So  far  was  this  consideration  for  them  carried, 
that  the  municipalities  were  obliged  to  pay  them  money 
instead  of  corn  and  oil  which  were  regarded  by  them 
as  impure.  Indeed,  when  the  delivery  of  these  supplies 
f«lJ  on  a  Sabbath,  payment  to  the  Jews  was  required  to 


CHAP,  i.l  THE   SYNAGOGUES.  85 

be  made  on  another  day.^^  Above  all,  they  had  perfect 
freedom  in  their  religious  observances.  Wherever  they 
dwelt  together  in  sufficient  numbers  they  had  a  Syna- 
gogue, or  at  least  a  place  of  prayer  (a  Froseueha^  Acts 
xvi.  13),  formed  a  distinct  communion  under  chosen 
presidents,  and  exercised  a  large  autonomy  which,  in 
consequence  of  their  religious  and  national  isolation 
from  the  heathen  among  whom  they  lived,  embraced 
not  merely  matters  of  religion,  but  much  besides. 

All  these  Jewish  congregations  were  most  intimately 
connected  with  each  other,  and  with  the  centre  of 
Judaism,  Jerusalem.  Every  Jew,  however  far  away  he 
dwelt,  regarded  himself  as  a  member  of  the  chosen  peo- 
ple, and  strove  to  keep  the  bonds  of  union  fresh  and 
strong.  He  paid  yearly  his  temple  tax,^^^  sent  offerings 
and  gifts  to  Jerusalem,  and  once,  at  least,  in  his  life  went 
up  to  visit  the  holy  city  and  to  keep  the  feast.^^  The 
Supreme  Council  in  Jerusalem  sent  annually  the  calen- 
dar of  festivals  to  the  congregations  of  the  Dispersion, 
communicated  to  them  important  decisions,  and  took 
care  that  they  received  information  of  all  events  which 
concerned  the  Jewish  people.  Since  the  Jews  as  mer- 
chants were  great  travellers,  brethren  often  came  bring- 
ing news  of  other  congregations,  and  such  guests  were 
gladly  permitted  to  speak  in  the  Synagogues.  In  brief, 
whether  one  of  their  congregations  was  located  on  the 
banks  of  the  Danube,  or  on  the  margin  of  the  Libyan 
desert,  it  was  a  part  of  a  universal  society.  The  Jews 
well  understood  how  to  use  this  connection  for  the 
promotion  of  their  own  interests.  If  a  Jewish  con- 
gregation received  any  injury,  all  alike  broke  out  into 
sedition,  and  this  skill  in  exciting  alarm  had  not  a  little 
to  do  in  securing  for  them,  notwithstanding  the    uni- 


86  JUDAISM.  [book  I. 

versal  hate  and  contempt  which  they  had  to  endure, 
the  greatest  respect  from  every  Roman  official  up  even 
to  the  Proconsul. 

Apart  from  this,  hatred  and  contempt  were  their 
usual  lot.  To  the  heathen  their  whole  appearance  was 
strange  and  utterly  unintelligible,  so  entirely  different 
were  they  in  all  respects  from  the  other  nations.  If  we 
would  be  convinced  how  unique  this  people  was  in 
history,  if  we  would  obtain  an  immediate  impression  of 
this,  we  need  only  recall  the  judgments  of  the  heathen 
upon  them.  What  marvellous  tales  concerning  them 
were  in  circulation !  ^^^  Now  they  were  said  to  have 
sprung  from  Mount  Ida  in  Crete ;  now  from  lepers  who 
had  been  expelled  from  Egypt.  In  the  desert,  when 
there  was  a  great  scarcity  of  water,  an  ass  showed  them 
a  fountain ;  therefore  they  worshipped  the  head  of  an 
ass  as  God.  Tacitus  thinks  that  Moses,  in  order  to 
make  sure  of  the  people,  gave  them  new  customs  con- 
tradictory to  all  the  usages  of  mankind.  "  They  deem 
profane  what  we  hold  sacred,  and  permit  what  we 
abominate."  ^^  To  the  Romans  the  commandments 
about  food  and  fasting  appeared  ridiculous  in  the  ex- 
treme. The  prohibition  of  swine's  flesh  was  an  inex- 
haustible theme  for  their  wit.  The  Sabbath  rest  they 
could  explain  only  by  laziness.  Juvenal  ^^  thus  ridi- 
cules an  idler : 

"  His  sire's  the  fault,  who  every  seventh  day- 
Neglected  work,  and  idled  time  away; " 

and  Tacitus  relates  with  entire  seriousness:  "After- 
wards when  inactivity  became  agreeable  the  seventh 
year  (the  Sabbatical)  was  also  given  up  to  idleness."  ^^ 
Particularly  offensive  was  their  worship  without  images, 


CHAP.  I.]  PAGAN  ANIMOSITY.  87 

and  their  entire  faith  was  to  the  heathen  the  acme  of 
superstition  and  credulity.  "  Credat  Judceus  Apella^'' 
"  A  Jew  may  believe  that,"  ^^^  says  'Horace  in  order  to 
characterize  something  wholly  incredible. 

This  wide-spread  hatred  of  the  Jews,  —  to  which 
countless  bloody  sacrifices  were  offered,  especially  dur- 
ing the  Jewish  war,  —  was  doubtless,  to  some  extent, 
a  consequence  of  their  hatred  of  the  heathen.  They 
were  treated  with  contempt  because  they  themselves 
despised  the  unclean  Gentiles.  The  Jew  had  a  large 
self-consciousness.  He  looked  upon  himself  as  a  mem- 
ber of  the  elect  people,  who  possessed,  in  contrast  with 
the  blind  heathen,  a  divine  revelation.  This  self-con- 
sciousness was  intensified  b}^  his  Messianic  hopes.  He 
was  destined,  he  believed,  soon  to  receive  the  dominion 
of  the  world,  and  he  made  no  reserve  of  this  expecta- 
tion even  when  face  to  face  with  the  heathen.  The 
Jess  its  depressed  and  enslaved  present  harmonized 
with  this  hope  for  the  future,  the  more  absurd  must  it 
have  seemed  to  the  proud  Roman  that  this  filthy  race 
of  beggars  should  dream  of  such  things.  We  need 
only  glance  at  the  writers  of  the  Empire  to  meet  every- 
where witticisms  about  the  circumcised  Jews.^^^  Wher- 
ever the  Jew  went  or  stood  he  was  encompassed  by 
pagan  ridicule.  In  the  theatre  he  was  the  object  of 
coarse  sallies,  which  were  sure  to  call  forth  laughter; 
on  the  street  he  had  frequently  to  endure  brutal  abuse. 

Hatred  and  contempt  might  well  be  increased  by  the 
fact  that  the  heathen  could  not  be  insensible  to  the 
wide  and  profound  influence  which  the  Jews  were  ex- 
erting. Seneca  says  of  them,  "the  vanquished  have 
given  laws  to  the  victors."  '^^  At  a  time  when  the  old 
gods  no  longer  satisfied  the  heathen,  when  so  many  long- 


88  JUDAISM.  [book  I 

ing  spirits,  anxious  for  happiness,  were  seeking  peace  by 
foreign  gods,  and  secret  doctrines  and  expiations,  how 
attractive  must  Judaism  have  been  !  Here  Monotheism, 
which  wise  men  taught  as  an  esoteric  religion  for  the 
cultivated,  appeared  as  a  religion  for  the  people ;  here 
was  a  spiritual  cult  infinitely  superior  to  the  wild,  and 
often  immoral,  heathen  cults;  here  was  a  revealed  word 
of  God ;  here  were  offerings  and  expiations. 

It  is  true  that  only  a  small  number  of  heathen  passed, 
by  circumcision,  wholly  over  to  Judaism,  great  as  was 
the  trouble  the  Pharisees  gave  themselves,  compassing 
sea  and  land  to  make  one  proselyte  (Matt,  xxiii.  15). 
Those  who  were  gained,  were  for  the  most  part  com- 
plete slaves  of  Pharisaism,  allowing  themselves  to  be 
led  blindly  by  blind  leaders,  fanatics,  proud  saints,  who 
afterward  became  the  most  zealous  persecutors  of  the 
Christians.  Often  worldly  advantages  would  come 
into  play,  particularly  exemption  from  military  service, 
for  there  was  certainly  a  special  reason  why  Tiberias, 
in  the  year  19  of  our  era,  inflicted  on  the  Jewish  com- 
munity in  Rome  precisely  this  punishment  of  recruiting 
from  it.  Our  Lord,  also,  passed,  in  the  passage  just 
referred  to,  a  severe  judgment  on  these  proselytes. 
The  largest  number  by  far  of  those  who  attached  them- 
selves to  Judaism  were  only  the  so-called  Proselytes  of 
the  Gate.  Without  receiving  circumcision,  and  thus 
obliging  themselves  to  keep  the  whole  ceremonial  law, 
they  were  bound  merely  to  avoid  idolatry,  to  serve  the 
one  God,  and  to  keep  the  so-called  precepts  of  Noah. 
On  these  conditions  they  had  a  part  in  the  blessings  of 
Judaism.  They  are  the  devout  men  and  women  so 
often  spoken  of  in  the  book  of  Acts.  They  were,  for 
the  most  part,  souls  anxious  for  salvation,  who  sought  in 


CHAP.  I.]  INFLUENCE   OF   THE    HEATHEN.  69 

the  synagogues  for  that  peace  of  heart  whicn  they  had 
failed  to  find  in  the  proud  temples  of  Greece,  and  the 
intoxicating  cults  of  the  Orient.  There  was,  in  all  the 
cities,  a  great  number  of  such  persons,  for  the  most  part 
women.ii^  In  Damascus,  almost  all  the  women  are  said 
to  have  belonged  to  this  class,  and,  in  Rome,  there  were 
many  even  from  the  higher  circles.  On  the  gravestones 
of  Jewish  cemeteries  we  read  names  from  many  an  illus- 
trious old  Roman  family,  the  gens  Fulvia,  Flavia,  Valina, 
and  others.  The  report  spread  that  even  the  Empress 
Poppsea  Sabina  was  a  proselyte.  Even  without  becom- 
ing exactly  proselytes  many  attached  themselves  to  the 
synagogue,  fasted,  prayed,  kept  the  Sabbath,  and  lighted 
candles  on  Jewish  festival  days.  In  this  there  may  have 
been  much  superstition.  The  experiment  which  had 
been  tried  with  so  many  other  gods  was  repeated  with 
Jehovah.  But  on  the  other  hand  many  a  soul  thirsting 
after  the  living  God  found  there  its  refuge.  A  circle 
formed  itself  about  the  synagogue  which,  no  longer 
pagan,  nor  yet  Jewish,  was  in  suspense  and  in  a  position 
of  expectancy,  and  thus  was  prepared  for  the  preaching 
of  the  Gospel.  Those  who  belonged  to  it  had  re- 
nounced idolatry,  had  learned  to  hearken  to  a  revela- 
tion. The  Old  Testament  was  known  to  them,  the 
law  had  awakened  in  them  a  consciousness  of  sin,  and 
prophecy  a  longing  for  salvation,  and  yet  they  did  not 
share  in  that  pride  of  Jewish  descent  and  Pharisaic 
righteousness  of  the  law  which  with  the  Jews  them- 
selves  was  so  great  a  hindrance  to  the  reception  of  the 
preaching  of  the  cross.  These  devout  heathen  were 
everywhere,  as  at  Philippi  (Acts  xvi.  14)  and  Thessa- 
lonica  (Acts  xvii.  4),  the  first  to  receive  the  message  of 
Christ. 


90  JUDAISM.  [book  l 

How  wonderfully  every  thing  here,  also,  was  prepared 
for  the  Gospel.  What  Palestine  was  for  the  whole 
world,  the  synagogue  was  for  every  city.  How  could 
the  youthful  Christianity  possibly  have  made  its  way 
through  the  unyielding,  rock-like  mass  of  Heathenism 
without  the  Diaspora  ?  Now  it  found  channels  every- 
where cut,  a  net-work  of  canals  extending  over  the 
whole  Roman  Empire,  and  was  able  to  diffuse  itself 
rapidly  in  every  direction.  Knowing  the  chief  seats  of 
Judaism,  we  know  already  in  advance  the  chief  seats  of 
early  Christianity.  Everywhere  the  ways  were  made 
ready  for  it,  the  centres  determined.  Moreover  we 
should  remember  that  the  privileges  of  Judaism  were 
at  first  of  service  to  the  Christian  Church.  So  long  as 
Christianity  was  regarded  by  the  heathen  as  a  Jewish 
sect,  it  appears  to  have  been  tolerated  by  them.  Juda- 
ism served  as  a  protecting  sheath  to  the  young  plant, 
until  it  had  gained  sufficient  strength  to  endure  the 
storms. 

Truly  the  times  were  fulfilled;  the  old  world  was 
ready,  not  to  produce  Christianity  from  itself,  but  to 
receive  it.  In  Greece,  in  Rome,  had  been  shown  what 
the  human  spirit  can  accomplish  in  its  own  strength. 
It  is  capable  of  great  things,  and  gloriously  has  it 
wrought,  but  all  the  greatness  sank  into  ruin,  all  the 
glory  paled,  and  one  thing  it  could  not  do,  it  could  not 
appease  the  longing  of  every  human  soul  for  the  eternal, 
for  God.  The  end  of  Heathenism,  as  respects  religion, 
is  complete  inefficiency,  perfect  despair  of  itself.  Man 
can  know  nothing  with  certainty,  this  is  the  end  of  all 
questioning.  Patet  exitus!  This  is  the  end  of  all 
search  for  happiness,  suicide  is  the  last  consolation. 
But,  in  the  act  of  expiring,  Heathenism  reaches  forth 


CHAP.  I.]  THE  FULNESS   OF   THE   TIMES.  91 

to  the  new  creation  which  God  will  provide.  Every- 
where coming  events  cast  their  shadow  before  them, 
the  universality  of  Christianity  is  adumbrated  in  the 
universality  of  the  Roman  Empire,  faith  in  the  one 
living  God  in  the  Monotheism  which  through  the  labor 
of  Philosophy  and  the  mingling  of  national  gods  opens 
a  way  for  itself  into  ever  widening  circles.  Everywhere 
is  disclosed  a  seeking  and  questioning  which  wait  for 
their  fulfilment  and  will  find  it,  the  seeking  for  Re- 
demption in  the  Saviour  of  all  nations,  the  questioning 
respecting  the  other  life  in  the  preaching  of  the  risen 
One.  And  in  the  midst  of  the  seeking  heathen  world 
Israel  stands  as  a  Prophet,  fulfilling  here  also  its  mission 
to  prepare  a  place  for  Him  who  is  to  come.  Here,  if 
anywhere,  can  it  be  perceived,  not  to  say  grasped  with 
the  hand,  that  every  thing  in  the  history  of  our  race, 
according  to  the  plan  and  counsel  of  God  who  is  rich 
in  mercy,  finds  its  goal  in  Him  in  whom  all  the  prom- 
ises of  God  are  Yea  and  Amen,  in  Christ  the  Lord. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  MORAL  CONDITION  OF  THE  HEATHEN  WORLD. 

"  We  ourselves  also  viere  sometimes  foolish,  disobedient,  deceived,  servina 
divers  lusts  and  pleasures,  living  in  malice  and  envy,  hateful,  and  hating 
one  another.'^  —  Tit.  iii.  3. 

I.      FAITH  AND   MORALS. 

An  age  which  has  become  unsettled  in  its  faith  is 
wont  to  lay  all  the  greater  stress  upon  morality.  Our 
own  age  of  Illuminism,  for  instance,  —  how  prone  it 
was  to  moralizing.  What  voluminous  compends  of 
Ethics,  what  a  flood  of  moral  sermons,  moral  tales, 
moral  songs,  what  space  was  given  in  the  catechisms 
to  lessons  on  the  virtues,  of  which  too  many  could 
pot  be  enumerated  I  There  was  a  consciousness  that 
something  had  been  lost,  and  at  the  same  time  an  un- 
willingness to  acknowledge  it;  a  misgiving  that,  with 
faith,  morality  also  must  decline,  and  a  desire  to  prove, 
at  least  by  words  and  looks,  that  this  was  not  so.  Men 
would  gladly  have  kept  the  fruit  although  they  had  cut 
off  the  roots.  They  had  so  much  to  say  about  the  fruit 
because  they  wished  to  persuade  themselves  that  this 
was  still  uninjured.  But  soon  enough  it  appeared  that 
with  the  root  the  fruit  as  well  was  irrecoverably  lost. 
92 


CHAP,  n.]  LAUDATION  OF  VIRTUE.  93 

The  first  century  was  a  similar  period.  Tf  we  sur- 
vey its  literature  we  shall  feel  ourselves  tempted  to 
regard  it  as  moral  to  an  extraordinary  degree.  Men 
moralized  abundantly.  Philosophy  was  wholly  absorbed 
by  Ethics.  Casuistry  was  perfected,  even  to  the  mi- 
nutest details,  so  that  the  wise  man  was  provided  witlj 
a  rule  of  conduct  for  every  relation  and  event  of  life. 
Seneca's  purpose  is  not  so  much  to  teach  philosophy  as 
to  prepare  for  a  successful  life.^  Characteristic  is  his 
relation  to  Annaeus  Serenus,  captain  of  the  watch 
under  Nero.  Seneca  regulates  his  life  even  to  the 
smallest  detail,  points  out  what  he  shall  read,  how  lie 
may  best  spend  the  day.  Serenus  lays  before  him  the 
state  of  his  soul,  and  Seneca  discusses  it  like  a  father 
confessor.  So  should  Serenus  attain  tranquillity  of 
mind,  that  blessed  state  in  which  the  soul  has  inwaril 
peace,  and  exemption  from  all  disquietude.  Similar 
relations  often  appear.  Indeed  it  became  the  custom 
to  receive  philosophers  into  the  family  as  teachers,  one 
might  almost  say  as  confessors  and  chaplains,  in  order 
to  obtain  from  them  counsel  and  guidance  for  the  whole 
ordering  of  life;  and  how  beautifully  and  admirably 
they  could  talk  about  all  possible  virtues.  The  ethical 
essays  of  Seneca,  to  mention  only  one  of  these  philoso- 
phers, have  appeared  so  excellent  to  many  persons  in 
later  times  that  they  have  thought  them  explainable 
only  on  the  theory  of  a  Christian  influei.ee,  and  tlie 
A>OTj  arose  of  a  personal  intercourse  between  the 
philosopher  and  the  Apostle  Paul.^  But  what  are  these 
moral  sermons  ?  Words,  nothing  but  words.  The  same 
Seneca  who  could  discourse  so  finely  upon  the  abstemi- 
ousness and  contentment  of  the  philosopher,  who  on 
all  occasions  paraded  his  contempt  for  earthly  things  as 


94  FAITH  AND  MORALS.  [boo*  t 

nothingness  and  vanity,  amassed,  during  the  four  years 
of  his  greatest  prosperity  and  power,  a  fortune  of  three 
hundred  millions  of  sesterces  (over  $15,000,000),  and, 
while  writing  a  treatise  on  Poverty,  had  in  his  house 
five  hundred  citrus  tables,  tables  of  veined  wood  brought 
from  Mount  Atlas,  which  sometimes  cost  as  much  as 
$25,000,  and  even  $70,000.  The  same  Seneca  who 
preached  so  much  about  purity  of  morals  was  openly 
accused  of  adultery  with  Julia  and  Agrippina,  and  led 
nis  pupil  Nero  into  still  more  shameful  practices.  He 
wrote  a  work  upon  Clemency,  yet  had,  beyond  ques- 
tion, a  large  part  of  Nero's  atrocities  upon  his  con- 
science. It  was  he,  too,  who  composed  the  letter  in 
which  Nero  justified  before  the  Senate  the  murder  of 
his  own  mother.  What  was  accomplished,  then,  by 
such  ethical  homilies  as  Seneca's?  Leaving  entirely 
out  of  account  that  it  was  not  in  the  least  his  intention 
to  influence  the  mass  of  the  people,  what  good  did  he 
do  to  individuals  ?  He  put  their  minds  into  a  state  of 
feverish  excitement,  induced  habits  of  morbid  intro- 
spection, but  such  results  contained  no  power  of  moral 
renovation.  That  very  Serenus  whom  he  guided  so 
like  a  father  confessor  was  unable  to  withstand  the  in- 
fection of  Nero's  court ;  he  it  was  who  brought  about 
Nero's  amour  with  Acte.  This  period,  as  well  aa 
others,  affords  a  proof  of  the  indissoluble  connection 
between  faith  and  morals.  Restricting  the  question  tc 
the  imperfect  morality  of  Heathenism,  we  see  even  here 
tJiat,  when  faith  goes,  morals  perish  with  it.  Not  untU 
we  perceive  the  moral  condition  of  the  heathen  world, 
do  we  discover  the  depth  and  completeness  of  its  decay 
Such  a  view,  however,  it  is  difficult  to  secure.  1 
might,  indeed,  simply  refer  to  contemporary  representa 


CHAP   n.]  CONTEMPORARY  DESCRIPTIONS.  9b 

tions  which  portray  the  state  of  morals.  What  a  picture 
it  is !  Seneca  says,  "  All  things  are  full  of  iniquity  and 
vice.  More  crimes  are  committed  than  can  be  remedied 
by  force.  A  monstrous  contest  of  wickedness  is  '^s.rrisd 
on.  Daily  the  lust  of  sin  increases ;  daily  the  sense  of 
shame  diminishes.  Casting  away  all  regard  for  what 
is  good  and  honorable,  pleasure  runs  riot  without  re- 
straint. Vice  no  longer  hides  itself,  it  stalks  forth  be- 
fore all  eyes.  So  public  has  iniquity  become,  so  ihightily 
does  it  flame  up  in  all  hearts,  that  innocence  is  no 
longer  rare :  it  has  ceased  to  exist."  ^  Somewhat  later 
Lucian  exclaims:  "If  any  one  loves  wealth,  and  ifi 
dazed  by  gold,  if  any  one  measures  happiness  by  purple 
and  power,  if  any  one  brought  up  among  flatterers  and 
slaves  has  never  had  a  conception  of  liberty,  frankness 
and  truth,  if  any  one  has  wholly  surrendered  himself  to 
pleasures,  full  tables,  carousals,  lewdness,  sorcery,  false- 
hood, and  deceit,  let  him  go  to  Rome  ! "  *  Or,  if  we 
would  have  in  addition  to  these  somewhat  rhetorical 
representations  a  sober  and  calm  opinion,  we  may  take 
that  of  the  historian  Livy:  "Rome  has  become  great 
by  her  virtues  till  now,  when  we  can  neither  bear  our 
vices  nor  their  remedies."^  But  it  may  be  replied: 
These  are  general  representations,  which  proceed  from 
pessimistic  views,  and  from  their  very  generality,  are  oi 
little  value ;  for  it  cannot  be  denied  that  they  are  not 
universally  applicable,  and  that  with  the  darkness  whicl? 
is  all  that  is  here  recognized  there  was  still  some  light. 

Instead,  then,  of  these  general  descriptions  I  might 
give  details,  an  anthology  of  the  horrors  committed  in 
that  age.  I  might  draw  the  portrait  of  a  Messalina,  oi 
relate  how  Nero  murdered  his  brother,  his  wife,  and  his 
own  mother,  how  secretly  plotting  her  death  he  first 


96  FAITH  AND  MORA  LS.  [BOOK  i 

wove  about  her  a  web  of  intrigues,  and,  when  this  failed, 
used  biaital  violence,  and  himself  sent  the  murderer  to 
plunge  the  sword  into  the  body  of  her  who  had  borne 
him ,  how  he  then  with  lies  justified  to  the  Senate  what 
had  bbe:i  done,  and  that  assembl}^  transparent  as  were 
these  lies,  in  slavish  subjection  decreed  new  honors  for 
che  Emperor,  and  offered  prayers  of  thanksgiving  in 
the  temples  of  the  gods ;  how,  greeted  by  the  Senate, 
and  welcomed  by  the  people  arranged  in  tribes,  with 
their  wives  and  children  in  festal  attire,  the  matricide 
entered  Rome  as  a  triumphator.  I  might  describe  the  im- 
perial frenzy  of  a  Caligula,  or  the  government  of  freed- 
men  under  Claudius,  and  then  say :  This  is  the  Age  ! 
But  with  reason  I  should  be  answered,  that  in  all  ages 
we  meet  with  individual  instances  of  deeds  of  horror, 
and  yet  the  error  should  not  be  committed  of  judging 
a  whole  period  by  such  cases  without  further  evidence. 
I  might,  it  is  true,  reply  in  turn,  that  such  atrocious 
crimes  are  but  the  summit  of  a  pyramid  whose  broad 
base  is  in  the  life  of  the  nation,  that  shapes  like  ]\Iessa- 
lina's  are  not  to  be  encountered  in  every  age,  and  that 
an  Emperor  who  murders  his  mother,  a  Senate  which 
decrees  thanksgivings  therefor,  a  people  who  go  out  to 
meet  the  murderer  as  a  triumphator^  do  indeed  presup- 
pose, in  order  to  the  mere  possibility  of  such  occur- 
rences, a  unive]real  and  horrible  decay  of  morals.  And 
yet  I  concede  that  there  is  no  poorer  way  of  character- 
izing an  age  than  that  of  sweeping  all  the  dirt  which 
can  b-^  found  into  one  heap.  Though  every  detail  may 
be  co.Tect,  the  picture  as  a  whole  is  false. 

Thi^-  much  is  clear.  If  we  would  obtain  a  tolerably 
correct  impression  of  those  times  we  must  neither  be 
content  with  mere  generalizations   which  from   thefr 


CHAP,  n.l         POSITION  OP  WOMAN  IN  GREECE.  97 

very  nature  imply  that  there  are  exceptions,  nor  look 
too  exclusively  at  individual  facts,  since  their  signifi- 
cance for  the  entire  period  can  always  be  called  in 
question.  The  best  course  will  be  to  go  through  the 
different  departments  of  life,  and  thus  at  last,  from  a 
mass  of  details,  compose  for  ourselves  a  comprehensive 
picture.^ 

n.      MARRIAGE   AND   FAMILT  LIFE. 

We  begin  with  that  relation  which  is  fundamental  to 
all  others,  whose  soundness,  therefore,  is  a  prerequisite 
to  the  healthfulness  of  a  nation's  life,  whose  stability  is 
for  this  reason,  the  surest  criterion  of  the  moral  charac- 
ter of  an  age  —  with  Marriage  and  Family  Life. 

The  Japhetic  nations  received  as  their  choicest  in- 
heritance, shame,  chastity,  and  modesty.  It  was  these 
traits  which  distinguished  them  so  definitely  from  the 
descendants  of  Ham,  and  elevated  them  so  high  in 
comparison.  But  they  acted  like  the  prodigal  son. 
They  wasted  their  portion.  First  of  all,  the  Greeks. 
They  too  in  their  youth  were  not  wanting  in  chastity 
and  modesty  (recall  Penelope),  but  as  early  as  the 
palmy  days  of  Greece  this  treasure  Was  already  lost. 
Almost  all  their  great  men  —  not  merely  so  notorious  a 
libertine  as  Alcibiades,^  but  even  a  Themistocles  and  a 
Fericles — were  impure.  The  female  sex  had  a  low 
position  in  Greece,  was  shut  out  from  education,  and 
t(»ok  no  part  in  any  of  the  employments  of  men,  in 
public  life,  in  the  affairs  of  their  country.  Plato  ®  rep- 
resents a  State  as  wholly  disorganized,  where  slaves  are 
disobedient  to  their  masters,  and  wives  are  on  an  equal- 
ity with  their  husbands.  Aristotle  ^  expressly  character 
izes  women  as  beings  of  an  inferior  kind.     Family  life, 


08  MAIIRIAGE  AND  FAMILY  LIFE.  [book  i. 

in  the  true  meaning  of  the  words,  the  Greek  did  not 
know.  He  was  at  home  as  little  as  possible,  and  sought 
happiness  elsewhere  than  at  his  own  hearth.  "  Is  there 
a  human  being,"  asks  Socrates  of  one  of  his  friends, 
"  with  whom  you  talk  less  than  with  your  wife  ?  "  " 
And  Demosthenes"  says,  without  the  least  embarrass- 
aient :  "  We  have  hetcerce  for  our  pleasure,  wives  to 
boar  us  children  and  to  care  for  our  households."  So 
the  courtesan  became  the  complement  to  the  wife,  and 
it  is  easy  to  understand  why  there  is  such  an  almost 
entire  absence  of  noble  women  throughout  the  history 
of  Greece,  and  so  great  prominence  given  to  the  posi- 
tion occupied  by  courtesans  and  the  role  which  they 
played  in  the  national  life.  They  frequented  the  lec- 
ture-rooms of  the  philosophers,  wrote  books,  and  were  on 
terms  of  intercourse  with  prominent  statesmen.  Even 
Socrates  went  to  hear  Aspasia.^'^  Famous  men  collected 
their  witty  sayings,  •  and  wrote  their  histories.  Aristo- 
phanes of  Byzantium  mentions  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  of  these  hetoercB^  Apollodorus  a  yet  larger  num- 
ber.^' They  gave  themselves  also  as  models  for  images 
of  the  gods.  Phryne  —  the  courtesan  who  promised  the 
Thebans  to  rebuild  their  walls  if  they  would  write  on 
them  in  golden  letters;  "Alexander  destroyed  them, 
Phryne  rebuilt  them  " — served  Praxiteles  as  a  model 
for  Ids  renowned  statue  of  the  Cnidian  Aphrodite. 
Thus  the  Greeks  lifted  their  hands  to  public  prostitutes 
wrhen  they  prayed  in  their  temples,  and  the  extent  ct 
this  shamelessness  is  sufficiently  shown  by  the  fact  that 
this  very  Phryne,  at  the  festival  of  Poseidon  in  Eleusis, 
appeared  as  Aphrodite  Anadyomene,  and  having  laid 
aside  her  garments  and  unloosed  her  hair,  descended 
into  the  sea  before  the  eyes  of  applauding  Greece.^^ 


CHAP,  n.]  LOSS  OF  EARLY  SIMPLICITY.  9% 

TKe  Rom.ins  kept  their  inheritance  much  longer 
Their  power  was  rooted  in  chastity,  modesty,  and  the 
strict  morals  of  the  earlier  time.  Nothing  immodest 
was  tolerated.  No  nude  images  of  the  gods  violated 
the  sense  of  shame.  Marriage  was  considered  sacred, 
and  children  grew  up  under  the  watchful  care  of  chaste 
mothers  in  the  simple  relations  of  home.  According  to 
Plutarch  it  was  230,  according  to  others  it  was  520, 
years  before  a  divorce  occurred  in  Rome.^^  The  Romans 
were  acquainted  with  true  family  life.  When  work  was 
done  they  went  home,  and  gladly  remained  in  the  bosom 
of  the  family.  A  genial  profligate  like  Alcibiades  could 
have  gained  no  foothold  in  Rome,  an  Aspasia  or  Phrjrne 
could  have  played  no  part. 

It  was  otherwise  when,  with  Greek  culture,  Greek 
frivolity  as  well  entered  Rome,  when  the  riches  of  the 
conquered  world  flowed  thither,  and  the  luxury  of  the 
Empire  took  the  place  of  republican  simplicity.  The 
ancient  simple  domesticity  disappeared.  Chastity  and 
modesty  perished.  Luxury  in  dress  came  into  vogue, 
and  with  it  a  finicalness  and  unnaturalness  such  as  per- 
haps have  never  since  been  equalled.  A  fashionable  Ro- 
man lady  protected  her  complexion  with  a  fine  artificial 
paste,  which  she  laid  at  night  on  her  face,  and  then 
bathed  in  ass's  milk.  Of  artificial  washes,  sweet- 
smelling  oils,  salves,  perfumeries,  pigments,  there  was 
no  end.  Female  slaves  thoroughly  skilled  in  all  the 
arts  of  the  toilet  stood  at  her  beck,  and  often,  while 
dressing  her,  were  roughly  and  cruelly  treated,  being 
pricked  with  long  needles,  or  beaten.  For  each  separ- 
ate pigment  a  particular  slave  was  appointed  who  had 
been  perfectly  trained  to  color  the  eyebrows  black,  or 
the  cheeks  red.     Thb  hair  was  dressed  in  the  most  arti 


100  MABRIAGB  AND  FAMILY  LIFE.  (booh:  i. 

ficial  way,  dyed,  or  entirely  cut  off  and  replaced  b;y 
false  hair.  Auburn  hair  was  specially  piLzed  in  the 
first  period  of  the  Emperors.  The  dealers  could  not 
procure  enough  of  it  from  Germany.  What  magnifi- 
cence, what  changes  of  apparel,  what  wealth  of  gold, 
pearls,  and  precious  stones,  ear-rings,  and  bracelets  I 
Lollia  Paulina,  the  spouse  of  Caligula,  wore  at  a  mar- 
riage festival  a  set  of  emeralds  which  she  was  prepared 
to  prove  by  documents  was  worth  forty  millions  of 
sesterces  ($2,000,000).^^  The  famous  necklace  of  Queen 
Marie  Antoinette,  which  in  the  French  Revolution 
became  so  fatal,  cost  but  1,600,000  francs,  not  one-sixth 
as  much.  They  wear  two  or  three  estates  suspended 
from  their  ears,  says  Seneca.^^ 

Naturally  there  was  a  desire  to  display  such  orna- 
ments. In  earlier  days  a  Roman  wife  remained  at 
home,  seldom  allowed  herself  to  be  seen  on  the  streets, 
and  then  only  when  veiled,  or  in  a  closed  chair.  Now, 
the  motto  was,  as  TertuUian  says :  "  See,  and  be 
seen."  ^^  In  their  walks,  at  the  theatre,  the  circus,  and 
at  entertainments,  they  exhibited  themselves  and  their 
finery.  Those  who  did  not  own  what  was  necessary  to 
such  a  show  could  hire  clothes,  jewels,  a  sedan-chair, 
cushions,  even  an  old  waiting-woman  or  a  fair-haired 
lady's  maid,  for  a  day  at  the  theatre  or  circus.^^  How 
demoralizing  this  must  have  been  is  obvious;  all  the 
more  so  because  the  performances  in  the  theatre  were 
thoroughly  immoral,  and  everywhere  at  soc'al  entertain- 
ments mythological  paintings  on  the  wall.;,  tables  and 
utensils  for  food,  representations  of  naked  forms,  pic- 
tures often  positively  immodest,  surrounded  the  guests 
—  to  say  nothing  of  the  dances,  shows,  music  and  songs.^ 

The  result  was  that  domestic  chastity  and  morality 


CHAP,  n.]  DECAY  OF  MARRIAGE.  101 

almost  wholly  disappeared.  Conceding  that  the  lepre* 
sentations  of  the  satirists,  of  Juvenal  and  Persiua,  may 
be  exaggerations,  that  much  of  what  we  read  in  Horace, 
and  especially  in  Ovid,  may  be  poetical  embellishment, 
enough  remains  to  warrant  this  conclusion.  Marriages 
now  were  effected  as  easily  as  they  were  dissolved. 
Inclination  was  not  taken  into  account.  For  a  man, 
marriage  was  a  financial  transaction,  for  a  maiden  the 
longed-for  means  of  escape  from  the  narrow  limits  of 
the  nursery  (for  usually  the  transition  was  almost 
immediate  from  the  nursery  to  married  life),  and  of 
becoming  free.  "There  are  women  who  count  their 
years  not  by  the  number  of  Consuls,  but  by  the  number 
of  their  husbands,"  ^^  says  Seneca.  "  They  allow  them- 
selves to  be  divorced,"  mocks  Juvenal,  "before  the 
nuptial  garlands  have  faded ; "  ^  and  Tertullian : 
"They  marry  only  to  be  divorced."  ^^  Friends  ex- 
changed wives,  and  it  was  not  considered  in  the  least 
dishonorable  to  employ  the  name  of  friendship  for  the 
purpose  of  seducing  a  friend's  wife.  Seneca  goes  so  far  as 
to  affirm  that  marriage  is  only  contracted  because  adul- 
tery affords  a  new  and  piquant  charm.^*  Matrimonial 
fidelity  was  made  a  subject  of  ridicule.  "  Whoever  haa 
no  love  affairs  is  despised,"  affirms  the  same  Seneca.^ 
Not  only  did  the  theatre  and  the  circus  offer  opportu- 
nities for  beginning  and  continuing  amorous  intrigues, 
tlie  temples  were  not  too  holy  nor  the  brothels  too  foul 
for  them.2^  It  came  to  pass  (a  more  horrible  symptom 
of  demoralization  can  scarcely  be  imagined),  that  ladies 
of  high  birth  had  themselves  enrolled  in  the  police 
register  of  common  prostitutes  in  order  that  they  might 
abandon  themselves  entirely  to  the  most  wanton 
excesses.     So  frequently  did  this  scandal  occur  that  it 


102  MARRIAGE  AND  FAMILY  LIFE.  Ibook  - 

became  necessary  to  pass  laws  against  it.     The  blessing 
of  children  was  only  a  burden.     Infanticide,  and  a  yet 
more  shameful  practice,  were  not  regarded  as  crimes, 
for  according  to  heathen  ideas  the  father  had  absolute 
power    over    his   children.^^     Household   employment 
were  despised,  and  the  children,  as  they  grew  largerj    ^ 
were   left  to   the   care   of  the   slaves.     Mothers  wexe    * 
more   concerned  about  their  toilets,  or  what  flute  or 
cithara  player  would  receive  the  crown  in  the  next  con    ^ 
test,  what  horse   would  win   at   the   next  race,  what 
athlete  or  gladiator  would  come  off  victorious  in  the 
amphitheatre,  than  they  were  about  the  education  of 
their  children.^^ 

As  a  matter  of  course  marriage  itself  fell  of  necessity 
into  deeper  and  deeper  contempt.  Who  would  marry 
merely  for  the  sake  of  supplying  a  disobedient  wife  with 
means  for  extravagance  ?  The  men,  too,  preferred  the 
freedom  of  single  life.  To  such  a  degree  did  celibacy 
and  childlessness  prevail,  that  the  State  deemed  it 
necessary  to  interfere.  As  early  as  Augustus  laws 
were  enacted  imposing  fines  and  increased  taxes  on 
those  persons  who  remained  unmarried  beyond  a  cer- 
tain age.  These  were  at  first  opposed  in  the  Senate,  ' 
and  the  insubordination  of  women  was  pleaded  as  a 
reason  for  this  aversion  to  marriage.  Later  still  the 
laws  were  again  and  again  renewed  and  made  more 
severe,  yet  without  removing  the  deep-seated  evil. 
M  any  preferred  to  accept  the  penalties  decreed  against 
the  unmarried,  and  the  childless.  A  single  life  was 
wholly  unrestricted;  childlessness  had  its  advantages. 
An  unmarried  man  had  something  to  ^  devise,  and  was 
flattered  and  honored  with  all  sorts  of  attention  by 
those  who   counted  on  being  remembered  in  his  will. 


CHAP,  n.]  LEGACY  HUNl'ING.  108 

Legacy  hunting  had  become  an  established  evil  in  the 
first  period  of  the  Empire,  and  was  so  much  a  matter 
of  course,  so  little  perceived  to  be  contemptible,  that 
Seneca,  for  example,  in  a  letter  of  condolence  to  a 
mother  upon  the  loss  of  her  only  son,  does  not  hesitate 
to  remind  her,  by  way  of  special  consolation,  that  she 
will  now,  as  a  childless  widow,  be  so  much  the  more 
honored  and  beloved  by  such  as  hope  for  an  inheiit- 
aiice.^ 

It  would  be  unseemly  to  lift  the  veil  from  the  sins  of 
impurity  of  which  the  heathen  world  was  full.  "  God 
gave  them  up  to  uncleanness,  through  the  lusts  of  their 
own  hearts,  to  dishonor  their  own  bodies  between  them- 
selves," writes  St.  Paul  (Rom.  i.  24) ;  and  for  every 
line  of  the  frightfully  dark  picture  which  he  there 
sketches,  proofs  can  easily  be  adduced.  In  shapes  like 
Nero's,  we  can  clearly  perceive  how  thirst  for  blood 
went  hand  in  hand  with  sensuality ;  and  in  the  orgies 
of  the  age,  as  for  instance  in  the  great  festivals  which 
the  prefect  Tigellinus  gave  on  an  artificial  island  in 
■^.he  lake  of  Agrippa,  the  shamelessness  was  so  conspicu- 
ous that  the  wildest  carousals  of  later  times  do  not  offer 
even  a  resemblance.  We  know  not  which  is  the  more 
shocking,  the  effrontery  with  which  sensuality  came 
forth,  or  the  cunning  with  which  it  sought  what  was 
more  and  more  unnatural.  Even  the  temples  promoted 
lewdness,  the  priestesses  were  prostitutes,  and,  shame- 
ful to  relate,  this  was  esteemed  and  practised  by  the 
heathen  as  a  part  of  religious  worship.^® 

There  were  doubtless  many  exceptions.  Even  if  the 
epitaphs  did  not  prove,  it,  we  should  assume  that  there 
were  siill  good  housewives  and  faithful  marriages, 
especially  among  the  middle   nlasses,  even  while   the 


104  LABOR  AND  LUXURY.  [book. 

higher  orders  were  much  more  deeply  corrupted.  Not 
infrequently  is  to  be  read  on  some  grave-stone  erected 
by  a  husband  to  his  wife :  "  She  never  caused  me  p 
pang  but  by  her  death,"  '*  and  the  praise  of  domesticity 
of  piety,  of  chastity,  is  often  expressed.  Yet  this  much 
is  certain,  that  married  and  domestic  life  were  widely 
corrupted  and  destroyed,  and  a  lawlessness  and  disso- 
luteness prevailed  which  far  exceeded  even  the  woist 
which  is  presented  by  our  large  cities  of  to-day.  Noblei 
souls  felt  this.  With  what  earnestness  did  Tacitus 
hold  up  as  an  example  to  his  contemporaries  the  puiity 
and  modesty  of  German  women.  Effort  after  effort 
was  made  to  repress  the  evil,  but  the  stream  of  cor- 
ruption spread  wider  and  wider.  Indeed  it  was  favored 
by  all  the  conditions  of  the  age.  The  world  was  con- 
quered, what  had  been  won  was  now  to  be  enjoyed. 
For  a  century  and  longer,  pleasure  was  the  motto  with 
high  and  low,  and  greater  seriousness  did  not  return 
until  the  time  of  enjoyment  was  past,  and  the  increasing 
need,  the  deepening  misery,  toward  the  end  of  the 
second,  and  during  the  third  century  had  inclined  the 
world  to  become  more  earnest  again. 

m.      LABOR   AND   LUXURY. 

Enormous  wealth  flowed  from  the  conquered  prov- 
inces to  Rome,  and  immense  sums  were  continually 
collected  from  the  provinces  even  after  the  imperial 
government  had  introduced  a  stricter  management  ol 
the  finances.  Especially  when  the  treasures  which  foi 
centuries  had  been  accumulating  in  the  East  fell  to 
the  victors  the  influx  of  gold  was  such  as  before  had 
never  been  thought  of  as  possible.  From  the  temple 
in  Jerusalem  alone  Crassus  plundered  10,000  talents 


HHAP.  n.]  ROMAN  WEALTH.    CONTEMPT  OF  LABOR.  105 

($11,316,600).^  As  Proconsul  of  Syria  Gabinius  ex- 
acted  one  hundred  millions  of  denarii  (|16,839,360).3' 
From  Ptolemy  Auletes  the  same  Gabinius  took  away 
10,000  talents  after  Caesar  had  already  taken  6,000,  in 
all,  therefore,  about  eighteen  millions  of  dollars.^  The 
other  provinces,  Spain,  Gaul,  also  contributed  largely. 
Quintus  Servilius  Csepio  alone  carried  off  from  the 
Tectosagan  city  Tolosa  15,000  talents  ($16,974,900).^ 

Wealth  is  not  merely  hazardous  to  the  individua;,  it 
13  also  dangerous  to  a  nation,  doubly  dangerous  when 
it  pours  in  suddenly,  as  in  Rome,  and  has  not  been 
gradually  acquired  as  the  fruit  of  labor.  In  Rome  it 
resulted  in  the  ruin  of  the  middle  class,  the  accumula- 
tion of  colossal  wealth  in  the  hands  of  a  few,  the  im- 
poverishment of  the  masses,  and  finally  in  unrestrained 
luxury  and  voluptuousness. 

Antiquity  had  no  knowledge  of  a  middle  class  such 
as  modern  times  are  acquainted  with,  for  labor,  the 
basis  of  a  sound  middle  class,  was  not  regarded  as  hon- 
orable but  as  a  disgrace.  Plato  ^^  deemed  it  right  to 
despise  men  whose  employment  did  not  permit  them  to 
devote  themselves  to  their  friends  and  to  the  State. 
According  to  Aristotle,^  all  forms  of  labor  which  re- 
quire physical  strength  are  degrading  to  a  freeman. 
Nature  has  created  for  such  purposes  a  special  class ; 
they  are  those  whom  we  reduce  to  bondage  that  they 
may  work  for  us  as  slaves  or  day-laborers.  In  Athens 
we  can  plainly  trace  the  process  by  which  the  middle 
class  was  obliterated  by  slavery.  In  the  earlier  period 
of  its  history  Athens  had  such  a  class  composed  of  free 
laborers,  but  this  was  unable,  w^en  wealth  increased, 
to  maintain  itself  against  the  combination  of  capital 
and  labor.     The  capitalists   owned  great  factories  iii 


106  LABOR  AND  LUXX7BY.  [book  i. 

which  the  foremen  as  well  as  the  operatives  were  slaves. 
Nothing  was  left  to  the  free  laborer  but  to  work  side 
by  side  with  slaves  in  the  factory,  or  to  remain  idle  and 
depend  on  the  State  for  support.  Thus  instead  of  a 
people  living,  as  Solon  intended,  by  labor,  and  treating 
labor  with  respect,  there  was  a  people  prone  to  idleness, 
corrupted  by  contact  with  slaves,  and  involved  in  all 
the  vices  of  Athenian  life. 

The  course  of  things  in  Rome  was  similar.  There, 
too,  labor  fell  more  and  more  into  disgrace.  There  all 
work  by  which  money  is  earned  was  despised  as  an 
ignoble  bondage.  Medicine,  architecture  and  commerce 
were  alone  excepted  as  honorable  employments  for  a 
freeman.  "The  mechanic's  occupation  is  degrading. 
A  work-shop  is  incompatible  with  any  thing  noble."  ^ 
Again  we  see  the  curse  of  slavery.  Where  it  exists 
free  labor  cannot  be  respected,  nor  a  middle  class  arise 
consisting  of  free  laborers. 

In  the  country  Italy  had  formerly  possessed  such  a 
class  in  the  free  peasants  who  industriously  tilled  the 
arable  land  on  small  farms  such  as  the  soil  of  Italy 
requires  for  its  cultivation.  This  free  peasant  class 
which  formed  the  kernel  of  the  legions  had  been  an- 
nihilated by  the  civil  wars.  More  than  once  the  dis- 
banded legions  of  the  conqueror  were  rewarded  with 
landed  property  in  Italy.  Sulla  had  distributed  among 
twenty-three  legions  such  munidpia  as  had  shown 
themselves  hostile  to  him.  The  soldiers  entered  tri- 
umphantly into  Florence,  Prseneste,  and  other  places 
appointed  for  them,  drove  away  the  inhabitants,  and 
took  pcssession  of  housos  and  lands.  Octavian  had 
treated  thirty-four  legions  in  the  same  way.  The  old 
soldiers  seldom  became  industrious  farmers.     What  had 


CHAP  n.j  RUIN  OF  THE  MIDDLE  CLASS.  107 

been  easily  won  was  easily  squandered.  Speculators 
bought  up  the  farms.  The  Roman  magnates,  who  had 
acquired  wealth  in  the  East,  or  in  Gaul,  invested  in 
them  their  capital.  Thus  arose  great  latifundia^  im- 
mense estates,  often  miles  square.  These  could  be 
worked  more  profitably  with  slaves  than  with  free 
laborers.  The  slave  therefore  everywhere  drove  out 
the  free  laborer.  Only  in  regions  the  most  remote, 
where  slaves  could  not  be  controlled,  and  under  hard 
conditions,  did  the  freeman,  as  villicus,  maintain  his 
position.  At  most  he  received  one-fifth  of  the  prod- 
uce.^ Or  he  was  allowed  a  chance  where  the  country 
was  unhealthy  and  capitalists  hesitated  to  take  the 
costly  risks  involved  in  slaves*  In  consequence  of  the 
size  of  the  landed  property  and  the  poor  quality  of 
the  labor  (a  slave  is  always  a  bad  and  dear  workman) 
the  cultivation  of  the  soil  ceased  to  be  profitable,  and 
gave  place  to  the  raising  of  cattle,  which  required  less 
labor,  and  offered  a  more  sure  reward.  Where  once 
luxuriant  corn-fields  waved  and  gardens  stood  full  of 
delicious  fruit,  nothing  could  now  be  seen  for  miles  but 
a  barren  heath  grazed  by  cattle.  Where  in  earlier  times 
numerous  villages,  in  the  midst  of  well-cultivated  fields 
and  gardens,  had  delighted  the  eye,  stood  now,  at  great 
distances  apart,  the  ergastula,  prison-like  dwellings, 
which  concealed  hundreds  of  miserable  slaves.  The 
two  maxims  then  often  heard :  "  A  purchased  laborer 
is  better  tlian  a  hired  one,"  and :  "  Grazing  is  more 
lucrative  than  farming,"*^  mark  the  steps  in  the  progress 
of  deterioration. 

As  the  flat  country  became  depopulated  the  large 
cities  became  crowded.  Those  who  could  no  longer 
maintain  themselves   in  the  country^  flocked  into   the 


108  LABOR  AND  LUXURY.  [WMW,  h 

cities,  especially  into  Rome.  And  what  a  population 
was  there  crowded  together!  We  do  not  know  with 
entire  accuracy  the  number  of  inhabitants  of  Rome  at 
the  beginning  of  the  Empire .^^  Some  estimate  it  at 
one  and  a  half,  others,  for  instance  Hoeck,  at  two 
millions  and  upwards.  Of  these  perhaps  only  about 
10,000  belonged  to  the  higher  orders,  senators  and 
knights ;  then,  according  to  Hoeck,  there  were  one  mil- 
lion of  slaves,  and  about  50,000  foreigners ;  the  remain- 
der constituted  the  Plehs  urhana^  who  were  absolutely 
destitute.  Of  service  for  hire  there  was  little  in  Rome. 
For  even  here  the  free  laborer  had  to  come  into  compe- 
tition with  the  slave,  and  here,  too,  the  latter  took  away 
his  work.  What  the  rich  needed  in  their  homes  was 
produced  for  them  by  their  many  slaves.  Even  large 
buildings  were  erected  by  slaves  in  the  employ  of  con- 
tractors. Craftsmen  thus  had  but  few  customers.  The 
only  other  opportunities  for  earning  money  were  those 
afforded  by  positions  as  inferior  attendants  upon  the 
magistrates,  as  servants  in  the  colleges  of  priests  and 
assistants  at  funerals.  There  was  no  real  middle  class. 
Many  sought  their  living  as  clients  at  the  houses  of  the 
great,  a  living  scanty  enough,  and  little  better  than 
slavery.  From  early  in  the  morning  till  late  in  the 
evening,  whether  it  was  hot  or  whether  it  snowed,  the 
clients  were  obliged  to  be  ready  in  their  togas  for  ser- 
vice to  their  patron,  waiting  upon  him  in  ti:e  house, 
and  accompanying  him  by  the  way.  For  such  attend- 
ance they  received  from  him  a  gift,  and  were  invited 
on  festival  occasions  to  his  house  that  they  might  help 
swell  the  pomp.  In  other  respects  they  were  often 
subjected  to  most  shameful  and  degrading  treatment 
even  from  the  freedmen  and  slaves  of  their  lord.     The 


CHAF.  n.]  DISTRIBUTION  OP  CORN.  109 

great  mass  of  the  people  lived  in  almost  complete  idl& 
ness  and  were  supported  by  the  State. 

Even  in  earlier  times  corn  was  delivered  to  Roman 
citizens  at  a  moderate  price.  In  the  year  of  the  city 
695  Claudius  carried  through  a  law  which  provided  for 
its  gratuitous  distribution.  During  the  Civil  Wars  the 
number  of  receivers  of  corn  increased  considerably, 
since  every  ruler  naturally  courted  the  favor  of  the 
people.  In  Csesar's  time  this  number  rose  to  320,000, 
Afterwards,  through  the  sending  away  of  colonies  of 
the  poor,  it  was  reduced  to  130,000,  under  Augustus  to 
100,000,  but  it  always  increased  again.  Inquiry  was 
made  into  the  need,  but  no  attention  was  paid  to  morals 
and  conduct.  "  The  thief,"  says  Seneca,*^  "  as  well  as 
the  perjurer  and  the  adulterer  receives  the  public  corn ; 
every  one,  irrespective  of  morals,  is  a  citizen."  On  an 
appointed  day  of  the  month  each  person  enrolled  in 
the  lists  received  the  tessera  frumentalis,  a  check  for 
five  bushels  of  wheat.  This  amount  was  then  measured 
out  in  the  magazines  to  every  one  who  brought  and 
showed  the  tessera.  Fo^  this  reason  the  checks  were 
often  sold,  especially  as  the  measure  was  so  large  that 
it  was  more  than  enough  for  one  person.  In  addition 
to  this  gift  of  corn,  largesses  in  money  (congiaria)  were 
distributed.  These  were  either  alms  which  were  dis 
pensed  solely  for  the  benefit  of  the  recipients  of  grain, 
or  they  were  presents  which  were  bestowed  upon  all, 
down  even  to  the  boys ;  as,  for  instance,  in  the  yeara 
of  the  city  725,  730,  742,  when  every  one  received  400 
sesterces  (about  twenty  dollars).  Each  congiarium  of 
this  sort  cost  the  State  250,000,000  sesterces,  about 
»12,500,000. 

Such  munificence  the  world  has  never  again  wit- 


110  LABOR  AND  LUXURlf  [book  i 

nessed,  but  we  do  well  to  reflect  that  it  was  not  benevo- 
lence. Not  man,  but  the  Roman  citizen  was  taken  into 
consideration ;  not  the  needy,  but  strong  men,  able  to 
work,  received  the  gift;  not  the  individual,  but  the 
State  was  the  giver ;  not  love,  but  justice  was  the 
criterion.  The  congiarium  was,  after  all,  but  each  Ro- 
man citizen's  share  in  the  spoil  of  a  conquered  world, 
a  premium  which  the  rich  out  of  fear  paid  to  idleness. 
Hence  what  was  received  only  increased  the  demand.  In 
the  dajs  of  Augustus  the  people  clamored  for  wine  in  ad- 
dition to  corn.  The  Emperor  replied  :  "  The  provision 
made  by  aqueducts  is  so  ample  that  no  one  need  thirst."  *' 
Later  Emperors  were  obliged  to  do  more.  Septimius 
Severus  caused  oil  to  be  distributed.  Aurelian,  at  his 
triamph,  gave  bread.  This  remained  the  rule  when 
the  people  demanded  it.  The  Emperor  would  even 
have  given  wine.  When  the  praetorian  prefect  remon- 
strated :  "  If  we  grant  the  people  wine,  we  must  also 
serve  out  to  them  chickens  and  geese,"  he  desisted,  but 
took  care  that  wine  should  be  furnished  to  the  people 
at  cheaper  prices.^  Such  a  system  of  largesses  could 
only  work  demoralizingly.  Love  elevates  the  poor 
man,  such  gifts  degrade  him.  Christianity  first  intro- 
duced true  benevolence,  and  as  it  has  ennobled  labor  so 
it  has  also  honored  innocent  poverty. 

Whilst  the  mass  of  the  people  lived  by  alms,  the  few 
who  possessed  wealth  revelled  in  unheard  of  luxury. 
Down  to  the  time  of  Augustus,  Rome,  compared  with 
what  it  afterwards  became,  had  been  rather  a  poor  city. 
Augustus  could  boast  that  instead  of  the  city  of  brick 
which  he  found  he  had  left  one  of  ma,rble.  Not  only 
pul)lic  buildings,  but  also  private  dwellings  show  from 
this  date  an  incomparable  magnificence.     A  residence 


.  n.J  LUXURY  OF  THE  RICH.  Ill 

whicli  with  its  appurtenances  (gardens,  etc  J  embraced 
four  acres,  was  considered  small.  What  a  splendid 
spectacle  was  offered  by  the  atria  with  their  lofty  pil- 
lars, for  which  the  most  costly  stones  were  collected 
from  tlie  whole  world.  Beams  of  Hymettian  marble 
rented  on  pillars  from  Africa ;  the  walls  were  formed 
of  costly  slabs  of  variegated  marble,  or  alabaster 
bordered  with  green  serpentine,  brought  from  distant 
Egypt,  or  from  the  Black  Sea.  The  arches  glistened 
with  mosaics  of  glass,  the  floors  were  artistically  tessel- 
lated. In  the  intervening  spaces  were  green  shrub- 
beries and  plashing  fountains,  while  high  above,  for 
protection  from  the  sun,  a  crimson  awning  stretched 
from  one  pillared  roof  to  another,  suffusing  the  mosaic 
floor  and  the  mossy  carpet  with  a  rosy  shimmer. 

All  this  was  surpassed  by  Nero's  Golden  House, 
which  was  like  a  city  in  size.  Its  colonnades  were 
each  a  mile  long.  In  its  vestibule  stood  a  colossal 
statue  of  the  Emperor  120  feet  high.  The  other  di- 
mensions of  the  palace  were  on  the  same  scale.  It  em- 
braced fields  and  gardens,  meadows  and  forests,  and 
even  a  lake.  The  halls  and  saloons  were  overlaid  with 
gold,  and  adorned  with  precious  stones  and  mother-of- 
pearl,  or  with  glass  mirrors  which  reflected  to  the  be- 
holder his  entire  figure.  Smaller  apartments  had  walls 
which  were  completely  covered  with  pearls.  The  ban- 
queting-rooms  were  decorated  with  special  magnificence, 
and  the  baths  afforded  the  rarest  luxu  -y.  The  banquetr 
ing-rooms  had  gilded,  carved,  and  painted  ceilings  which 
were  changed  to  suit  the  various  courses  of  the  meal,  and 
so  constru3ted  that  flowers  and  perfumes  could  be  scat- 
tered upon  the  guests.  Water  from  the  sea,  as  well  as 
sulphurated  water  from  the  springs  of  the  Tiber,  was 


112  LABOR  AND  LUXURY.  [book  k 

conducted  to  the  baths  through  magnificjent  conduits, 
and  flowed  from  gold  and  silver  faucets  into  basins  of 
variegated  marble,  so  that  it  looked  now  red,  now  green, 
now  white.  "  Now  I  am  lodged  as  a  man  should  be," 
said  Nero  when  he  took  possession  of  it.'*^  Otho  granted 
three  millions  for  an  enlargement  of  this  palace,  and 
yet  Vitellius  found  it  still  unworthy  of  an  Emperor. 
Naturally  these  extensive  houses  rendered  building 
sites  extraordinarily  dear,  and  there  was  as  little  room 
in  Rome  for  the  poor  as  there  is  now  in  our  large  cities. 
Under  Nero  a  law  was  passed  which  forbade  the  pur- 
chase of  houses  for  the  sake  of  pulling  them  down  and 
speculating  with  the  sites. 

Beside  his  city  residence  a  wealthy  Roman  had  a 
number  of  country  houses  in  the  mountains  or  by  the 
sea,  in  Southern  Italy  or  in  the  North.  For  miles 
away  stretched  the  most  magnificent  parks,  such  as 
only  a  strongly  developed  taste  for  natural  beauty, 
with  enormous  means  at  command,  could  create.  If 
one  had  seen  in  his  travels  a  landscape  which  seemed  to 
him  specially  beautiful,  he  sought  to  imitate  it,  or  found 
satisfaction  in  producing  one  under  circumstances  and 
in  places  where  every  preliminary  condition  was  want- 
ing. Where  the  sea  had  been,  he  made  land,  and  laid 
out  a  villa  on  it,  merely  for  the  sake  of  being  able  to 
say  that  he  had  wrested  it  from  the  waters ;  or  he  had 
earth  brought  at  an  enormous  expense  and  spread  upon 
naked  rocks  in  order  to  plant  there  a  garden  or  a  grove. 
Nature  and  art,  wealth  and  taste,  were  combined  to 
insure,  in  a  land  whose  climate  is  enchantingly  beau- 
tiful, an  enviable  existence  for  the  rich.  That  these 
great  villas  drove  the  poorer  class  away  from  land  and 
soil,  withdrew  the  fields  from  the  culture  of  com,  wine 


(THAI,  n.]  PUBLIC  BUILDINGS  AND  WORKS  113 

and  fruit,  products  to  whicli  they  were  naturally 
adapted,  and  so  helped  increase  the  proletariat  what  did 
the  rich  care  for  this  ? 

Consider  first  the  public  buildings!  A  real  frenzy 
for  architecture  ruled  the  age,  and  when  pure  art  was 
declining  men  strove  to  supply  the  lack  of  genuine 
artistic  perfection  by  colossal  size  and  excessive  decora 
tioa.  We  can  scarcely  imagine  now  the  magnificence 
and  splendor  of  a  city  like  Rome.  The  most  beautiful 
and  wealthy  capitals  of  modern  times  are  far  inferior  to 
it.  In  comparison  with  such  a  profusion  of  works  of 
art,  of  palaces  and  temples,  of  theatres  and  baths,  of 
triumphal  arches  and  statues  numbered  by  thousands, 
they  appear  actually  poor.  And  when  we  remember 
the  many  other  large  cities,  some  of  which  like  Anti- 
och  and  Alexandria,  for  instance,  rivalled  Rome,  when 
we  recall  even  smaller  cities  like  Pompeii  which  a 
favorable  fortune  has  preserved  for  us,  we  see  every- 
where such  wealth  of  artistic  decoration,  and,  apart 
from  occasional  defects  of  taste,  such  unvarying  pleas- 
antness, such  cleanliness  and  neatness,  that  we  find 
here  continually  our  models.  If  we  then  represent  to 
ourselves  only  approximately  the  grandeur  of  the 
public  works,  the  bridges,  streets,  aqueducts,  through- 
out the  entire  Empire,  whose  ruins  in  Africa  and  in  the 
Eifel,  in  France  and  in  Syria,  still  excite  our  admira- 
tion, the  picture  as  a  whole  is  indeed  astonishing,  and 
we  obtain  some  idea  of  the  power  still  resident  in  that 
imperial  Rome  to  whom  most  of  these  works  owed  their 
origin. 

The  interior  of  the  dwellings  presented  nothing  of 
what  we  now  call  comfort,  but,  all  the  more,  weiltb 
and  sumptuousness.    Even  here  it  is  apparent,  that  th« 


114  LABOR  AND  LUXURY.  [book  l 

life  of  the  ancient  world  was  directed  to  what  is  exter- 
nal, not  to  what  is  within.  We  seek  above  all  else  in 
a  dwelling  an  agreeable  and  comfortable  home;  the 
ancient  world  inclined  everywhere,  even  in  the  house, 
to  show.  The  occupant  of  a  mansion  desired  most  of 
all  to  make  a  brilliant  display  of  his  wealth  and  his 
importance.  The  rooms  compared  with  ours  were 
empty,  containing,  instead  of  a  large  amount  of  furni- 
ture for  daily  use,  only  a  few  articles  which  were  sa 
much  the  more  superb  and  costly,  —  expensive  tables 
with  covers  of  citrus  wood  and  resting  on  ivory  feet, 
couches  inlaid  with  gold  and  silver  and  covered  with 
Babylonian  tapestry,  splendid  vases  of  Corinthian 
bronze,  or  the  somewhat  enigmatical  Murrha,  vessels  of 
which  were  worth  $T,500  and  even  $37,500,  ^ginetan 
candelabra,  sideboards  with  antique  silver  plate,  and 
statues  and  paintings  by  renowned  artists.  Every 
thing,  even  down  to  the  common  household  utensils, 
was,  in  an  incomparably  higher  degree  than  with  us, 
artistically  formed  and  finished. 

Then  the  life  in  these  magnificent  houses!  Inordi- 
nate longing  for  enjoyment,  effeminacy  and  voluptuous- 
ness, reigned  supreme.  Numerous  slaves  stood  waiting 
the  nod  of  their  master,  ready  to  render  all  kinds  of 
service  in  order  to  relieve  him  of  the  slightest  trouble. 
There  were  even  some  slaves  who  knew  by  heart  Homer 
or  Virgil,  and  standing  behind  the  clair  of  their  mas- 
ter whispered  in  his  ear  a  citation  frobi  the  classic  poets 
whenever  he  deemed  it  appropriate  to  introduce  such  a 
passage  into  the  conversation.  Earnest  labor  was  not 
thought  of,  at  most  only  a  dilettante  occupation  with 
the  fine  arts.  Apart  from  this,  life  was  one  prolonged 
revel.     Entertainments  and  feasts  chased  one  another, 


CHAP,  n.]  EXTRAVAGANCE  AND  VOLUPTUOUSNESS.         115 

each  in  turn  more  recherche  than  the  preceding.  Tha 
means  of  enjoyment  were  gathered  from  every  quarter 
of  the  globe,  and  the  more  rare  and  costly  they  were 
the  more  highly  were  they  prized.  Men  out-vied  each 
other  in  the  art  of  squandering  at  a  single  meal  hun- 
dreds of  thousands,  until  the  Emperor  Vitellius  ex- 
ceeded all  by  running  through,  in  the  few  months  of 
his  reign,  one  hundred  and  fifty  millions.  That  the 
pleasure  of  eating  might  be  prolonged  emetics  were 
made  use  of.  "  They  vomit  to  eat,  and  eat  to  vomit," 
.^ays  Seneca,  "  and  do  not  deign  to  digest  the  feasts  col- 
lected from  all  parts  of  the  world."  ^  What  extrava 
gance  in  yet  other  respects  was  committed  at  these  ban- 
quets !  Thousands  were  expended  in  a  single  day  for 
flowers  —  roses  and  violets  in  the  middle  of  winter  — 
which  were  showered  upon  the  guests,  for  ointments 
and  fragrant  waters.  In  every  thing  there  was  exag- 
geration even  to  unnaturalness,  and  often  our  belief  is 
taxed  as  though  we  were  in  an  enchanted  castle,  where, 
as  fairy-tales  relate,  every  thing  is  of  silver  and  gold. 
As,  for  instance,  when  we  hear  that  Poppaea  Sabina,  the 
wife  of  Nero,  took  with  her  on  a  journey  five  hundred 
asses  in  order  that  cosmetic  baths  might  be  prepared 
for  her  from  their  milk,  and  that  these  animals  had 
gold  and  silver  shoes,  and  that  her  husband,  when  he 
amused  himself  with  fishing,  used  nets  interwoven  with 
threads  of  gold. 

Only  an  age  utterly  wanting  in  earnestness,  destitute 
of  any  high  purpose  or  endeavor,  and  wholly  aban- 
doned to  sensual  enjoyment,  could  have  fallen  into 
such  practices.  And,  conversely,  this  life  of  pleasure 
must  have  proved  increasingly  destructive  to  morals. 
"  Through    dissipation."    complains    a    contemporary, 


HQ  LABOR  AND  LUXURY.  [book  i 

"the  minds  of  indolent  youth  have  become  sluggish, 
and  no  one  rouses  himself  to  the  trouble  and  toil  of  an 
honorable  employment.  Sleep  and  lassitude,  and  what 
is  worse  than  both,  zeal  in  wrong-doing,  have  taken 
possession  of  them.  The  disgraceful  pursuit  of  song 
and  dance  makes  them  effeminate ;  their  darling  passion 
is  to  curl  their  hair,  to  weaken  their  voices  to  feminine 
accents  of  flattery,  to  vie  with  women  in  pampering 
the  body,  to  excel  in  the  foulest  vices.  Who  of  your 
contemporaries  is  full  of  spirit?  Who  is  full  of  desire 
for  knowledge  ?  Who  is  even  a  man  ?  "  This  was  the 
race  as  Pliny  and  the  physician  Galen,  in  this  matter  a 
competent  witness,  depict  it  for  us,  "  with  pale  faces, 
flabby  cheeks,  swollen  eyes,  trembling  hands,  enfeebled 
understanding,  and  ruined  memory."*"  These  were 
jhe  people  who,  morally  rotten,  completely  enervated, 
cringed  before  the  Emperor  in  the  Senate  and  answered 
every  kick  with  new  and  studied  flatteries,  these  aristo- 
crats who  boasted  of  their  proud  old  names  and  their 
wealth,  and  yet  in  Nero's  presence  were  mere  slaves,  or 
at  most,  in  company  with  shameless  women,  plotted 
conspiracies  which  they  could  not  find  courage  to  carry 
out,  even  in  death  dastards  or  profligates. 

How  dull,  how  stale,  life  seemed  to  all  this  hlasS  race. 
Intoxicated  with  pleasure  and  sensual  enjoyment,  able 
to  gratify  every  whim  however  absurd,  they  were 
nevertheless  thoroughly  discontented,  and  sought  in 
vain  by  ever  new  devices  to  impart  fresh  zest  to  exist- 
ence. Life,  in  the  time  of  the  Emperors,  was  utterly 
tedious  and  uninteresting.  There  were  no  elevating 
influences.  Interest  in  public  affairs  had  died  out 
from  the  time  that  the  Emperor  alone  ruled  the  world 
according  to  his  own   caprices,  or,  as  might  happen, 


CHAP,  n.]  PBIVOLITT.  117 

allowed  it  to  be  ruled  by  women  or  valeta  de  chambre. 
Religious  life  bad  disappeared.  Pbilosopby  bad  degen- 
erated iQto  a  vain  display  of  mere  words.  Between  an 
inordinately  wealthy  aristocracy  and  a  populace  accus- 
tomed to  be  fed  by  its  lords,  there  was  no  opportunity 
for  creative,  progressive  labor. 

In  the  absence  of  serious  occupation  life  became 
filled  with  mere  frivolities.  Men  ceased  to  work.  The 
obligations  of  society  and  politeness  assumed  a  ridicu- 
lous importance.  "  It  is  astonishing,"  Pliny  writes  in 
one  of  his  letters,*^  "how  time  is  passed  in  Rome. 
Take  any  day  by  itself  and  it  either  is,  or  seems  to  be, 
well  spent;  yet  review  many  days  together  and  you 
will  be  surprised  to  discover  how  unprofitable  they 
have  been.  Ask  any  one :  What  have  you  done  to-day? 
He  will  tell  you :  I  was  at  a  friend's  who  gave  his  son 
the  toga  virilis ;  another  requested  me  to  be  a  witness 
to  his  will ;  a  third  asked  me  to  a  consultation.  All  of 
these  things  appear  at  the  time  extremely  necessary. 
But  when  we  reflect  that  day  after  day  has  been  thus 
spent,  such  employments  seem  trifling."  Where  life 
was  not  passed  in  frivolity  and  dissipation  the  most 
important  occupations  were  writing,  reading  to  others 
what  had  been  written,  hearing  lectures,  composing 
poems,  and  admiring  those  produced  by  others.  "  Dur- 
ing the  whole  month  of  April,"  Pliny  ^^  relates,  "  there 
was  scarcely  a  day  in  which  some  one  did  not  recite  a 
poem."  "We  suffer  from  a  superfluity  of  sciences," 
Seneca  had  already  remarked.^^  Instead  of  going  to 
the  Forum,  or  elsewhere,  to  important  business,  one 
went  to  hear  some  rhetorician  declaim  about  morality, 
or  to  the  baths  —  the  clubs  of  that  day  —  to  talk  about 
e^ery  thing  and  nothing.     Or  one  was  invited  by  a 


118  LABOR  AND  LUXURY.  [book  i 

friend  to  hear  some  history  or  poem.  They  declaimed 
througli  life.  The  sense  for  true  beauty  became  more 
and  more  impaired.  If  a  poet  or  rhetorician  succeeded 
in  successfully  imitating  the  works  of  the  ancients,  he 
received  the  highest  applause. 

A  striking  proof  of  the  spiritual  condition  of  many 
persons  at  that  time  is  afforded  by  the  beginning  of 
Seneca's  treatise  "On  Tranquillity  of  Mind."  Serenus, 
the  captain  of  the  watch,  already  referred  to,  had  dis- 
closed to  Seneca  the  state  of  his  soul,  and  begged  him 
to  name  the  evil  from  which  he  was  suffering.  Seneca's 
reply  describes  what  the  outlook  then  was  for  many 
persons.  It  is  an  indescribable  medley  of  energy  and 
weakness,  of  ambition  and  impotence,  a  rapid  succes- 
sion of  undefined  hopes  and  groundless  discourage- 
ments, a  consuming  ennui,  an  utter  disgust  with  self, 
which  allows  no  place  of  rest  and  finally  renders  every 
thing  odious.  The  world  seems  monotonous,  life  uni- 
form, pleasures  fatigue,  the  least  efforts  exhaust,  and 
tliis  vague  sadness  becomes  at  last  so  heavy  a  burden 
that  one  contemplates  escaping  from  it  by  death.'^ 

I  gladly  acknowledge  that  the  description  I  have 
given  of  the  moral  life  of  that  age  needs  qualification 
on  this  side,  or  on  that ;  that  there  were,  beyond  ques- 
tion, sounder  and  nobler  elements ;  that,  by  comparison 
with  other  times  which  offer  similar  phenomena,  much 
can  be  set  in  a  milder  light ;  and  yet,  after  all  such 
allowances  are  made,  one  thing  must  at  any  rate  be 
admitted,  of  which  all  these  details  are  only  a  symptom, 
and  which  itself  is  the  most  unerring  symptom  of  the 
degradation  of  the  old  world :  the  exhaustion  from  life 
of  every  lofty  purpose. 


OHAP.  11.]  PASSION  FOR  GAMES.  119 


IV.       PUBLIC    GAMES. 


This  appears  pre-eminently  in  the  wide-spread  pas- 
Bion  among  the  higher  classes  for  personally  taking 
part  in  the  theatre,  the  circus,  the  chariot-races,  and 
the  gladiatorial  sports.  Nero  led  the  way  in  this  by  his 
example.  Prouder  than  any  triumphator  he  entered 
Rome  with  eighteen  hundred  and  eight  victors'  wreaths 
which  he  had  won  in  the  Grecian  games,  and  hung 
them  on  the  obelisk  in  the  Circus  Maximus  even  while 
the  Nemesis  of  his  bloody  deeds  was  already  knock- 
ing at  the  gates.  So  general  did  this  inclination  become 
that  more  earnest  Emperors  endeavored  to  restrain  it 
by  legislation.  It  can  be  explained  only  by  the  crav- 
ing for  new  and  more  powerful  stimulants.  Satiated 
with  all  possible  enjoyments,  people  sought  in  the  cir- 
cus, and  in  the  arena,  for  an  excitement  they  no  longer 
found  elsewhere,  and,  grown  indifferent  to  every  thing, 
staked  in  the  gladiatorial  games  a  life  which  had  ceased 
to  have  for  them  any  value.  In  general  the  absorbing 
interest  of  this  age  in  all  sorts  of  spectacles  was  in  the 
highest  degree  characteristic,  and  it  is  worth  while  to 
contemplate  it  somewhat  more  closely  from  this  point 
of  view,  since,  in  this  way,  a  profound  insight  can  be 
obtained  into  the  morality  of  that  time,  as  well  as  of  al) 
antiquity. 

Spectacles  (taking  the  word  at  first  in  the  broadest 
sense)  had  for  ancient  life  generally  a  higher  impor- 
tance than  for  modern.  Here,  again,  that  tendency  of 
the  former  to  externals  which  has  been  already  repeat- 
edly noticed  may  be  seen  in  its  delight  in  artistic  rep- 
resentation, and,  consequently,  in  public  parades  and 
displays  of  all  sorts.     This  is  apparent  even  in  public 


120  PUBLIC  GAMES.  [book  l 

worship.  The  whole  cultus  had  a  theatrical  tendency ; 
processions  constituted  a  large  part  of  it.  What  an 
important  place  did  the  theatre  occupy  in  the  popular 
life  of  the  Greeks.  In  this  domain  lie  in  part  the  high- 
est achievements  of  Greek  genius,  in  the  dramas  of  an 
.^chylus,  Sophocles  and  Euripides.  To  be  sure,  the 
day  when  such  creations  of  genius  were  rejoiced  in  was 
long  gone  by.  The  tall  figures  in  the  cothurn  and  with 
the  mask,  with  solemn  step  and  solemn  speech,  had  dis- 
appeared from  the  boards.  The  Greeks  of  that  time,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  Romans,  would  have  found  no  pleas- 
ure in  the  OEdipus,  nor  in  the  Antigone.  The  later 
comedy  continued  longest  in  favor,  at  least  the  fine- 
ness of  the  acting  proved  attractive.  Buffoonery  and 
pantomimes  became  popular.  The  Attellana^  a  sort  of 
Punchinello  comedy  with  grotesque  drollery  and  coarse 
jokes,  the  Mimus^  a  loosely  connected  representation  of 
characters  in  common  life,  with  jesters  and  much  stage 
art,  with  rich  decorations  and  astonishing  scene  shift- 
ings,  were  now  the  favorite  amusements.  The  lofty 
deeds  of  heroes  were  no  longer  held  up  for  imitation, 
nor  were  the  follies  of  the  time  derided ;  the  adventures 
of  deceived  husbands,  adulteries  and  amorous  intrigues 
formed  the  staple  of  the  plots.  Virtue  was  made  a 
mock  of,  and  the  gods  scoffed  at;  every  thing  sacred 
and  worthy  of  veneration  was  dragged  in  the  mire.  1  n 
obscenity,  unveiled  and  unambiguous,  in  impure 
speeches  and  exhibitions  which  outraged  the  sense  of 
shame,  these  spectacles  exceeded  all  besides.  Ballet 
dancers  threw  away  their  dresses  and  danced  half 
naked,  and  even  wholly  naked,  on  the  stage.  Art  was 
left  out  of  account,  every  thing  was  designed  for  mf* re 
sensual  gratification. 


SHAP.  n.]  THEATRE,  CIECUS.  121 

Apart  from  such  exhibitions  the  theatre  proper  was 
decidedly  out  of  favor.  The  popular  taste  inclined 
chiefly  to  the  amusements  of  the  circus  and  amphithea- 
tre. These  festivals,  of  religious  origin  and  still  con- 
nected with  religious  ceremonies,  had  acquired  in  the 
time  of  the  Emperors  a  political  significance  Those 
in  power  found  it  to  be  strongly  for  their  interest  to 
keep  the  people  busy  and  diverted.  Bread  and  Games ! 
was  the  demand,  and  so  long  as  Kome  had  enough  to 
eat  and  was  amused,  the  Emperor  had  little  to  fear. 
Hence  the  great  watchfulness  respecting  the  supply  of 
corn,  hence  the  pains  taken  to  provide  at  so  enormous 
an  expense  for  games.  The  more  political  life  decayed, 
the  greater  the  place  occupied  by  sports.  The  Empe- 
rors, therefore,  good  and  bad  without  distinction,  ex- 
pended on  them  immense  sums.  The  most  economical 
felt  obliged  to  have  money  for  them,  and  the  most 
inflexible  and  simple  had  to  yield  in  this  matter  to  the 
pleasure  of  the  people. 

In  the  times  of  the  Republic  games  were  observed 
within  moderate  limits.  As  early  as  Augustus  they 
were  celebrated  for  sixty-six  days ;  under  Marcus  Aure- 
lius  the  number  had  increased  to  one  hundred  and 
thirty-five.  Besides  these  there  were  extraordinary 
festivals.  Titus  gave  the  people,  at  the  dedication  of 
the  Flavian  Amphitheatre,  a  festival  which  lasted  a 
hundred  days;  Trajan,  on  the  occasion  of  his  Dacian 
triumph,  one  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-three  days, 
fco  it  was  in  Rome,  where,  to  be  sure,  every  thing  was 
carried  to  extremes.  Yet  ther^  were  not  wanting 
games  in  the  provinces,  although  in  a  more  moderate 
degree,  as  is  proved  by  the  ruins  of  numerous,  and 
often  colossal,  amphitheatres  in  all  parts  of  the  Roman 


122  PUBLIC  GAMES.  [book  i 

Empire.  Even  in  Palestine  King  Agrippa,  to  the  hor- 
ror of  the  Jews,  caused  a  circus  to  be  built,  and  his 
race  horses  are  said  to  have  contended  for  the  stakes 
with  the  Roman.  On  the  walls  of  Pompeii  we  see 
to-day  the  posters  in  which  the  holding  of  games  was 
announced.  It  belonged  to  the  most  burdensome  and 
pressing  duties  of  municipal  officers  even  in  the 
medium-sized  cities  to  provide  games  at  their  own 
expense,  and  we  know  accidentally  of  a  gladiatorial 
show  in  an  Italian  city  of  middle  rank  at  the  beginning 
of  the  Empire,  which  lasted  three  days,  and  cost 
20,880  dollars. 

Often  the  people  were  feasted  at  the  games,  and 
entire  days  were  appointed  for  magnificent  banquetings. 
Slaves  of  the  Emperor  carried  around  viands  and  wine 
on  broad  platters  and  in  large  baskets.  All  the  people, 
men,  women  and  children,  senators  and  knights,  the 
court  and  the  Emperor  himself,  ate  at  great  tables  in 
the  broad  public  places  of  Rome.  Or  figs,  dates,  nuts 
and  cakes  were  thrown  among  the  people,  —  it  rained 
roasted  fowls  and  pheasants.  Lottery  tickets  were 
distributed  entitling  to  smaller  or  larger  prizes,  per- 
chance articles  of  clothing  or  household  furniture,  gold 
and  silver,  houses  too,  and  landed  estates.  Whoever 
had  luck  could  become  rich  in  a  day.  The  people 
thronged  to  these  games.  Not  unfrequently  lives  were 
lost  in  the  crowd. 

The  greatest  enthusiasm  was  felt  for  the  chariot 
races  in  the  Circus ;  there  the  passions  were  most  fear- 
fully excited.  Which  of  the  four  parties  designated 
by  the  colors  worn  by  horses  and  drivers  would  win  at 
the  next  race,  whether  the  red  or  the  green,  the  blue  or 
the  white,  was  a  question  which  occupied  Rome  for 


CHAT,  n.]  CHABIOT  RACES  128 

days  in  advance.  Wagers  were  often  concluied  for 
hundreds  of  thousands,  for  entire  estates.  Saciifices 
were  offered,  soothsayers  questioned,  even  magical  arts 
employed,  in  order  to  obtain  the  victory  for  the  favorite 
party.  "  Does  the  green  lose,"  says  Juvenal,  "  then  is 
Home  struck  aghast  as  after  the  defeat  at  CannsB."*' 
"Whether  a  Nero  governed  the  Empire  or  a  Marcus 
Aurelius,"  writes  Friedlander,  from  whose  representa- 
tions of  Roman  life  I  borrow  much,  "whether  the 
Empire  was  at  peace  or  aflame  with  civil  war,  or  the 
barbarians  stormed  at  the  frontiers,  in  Rome  the  ques- 
tion of  chief  moment  for  freemen  and  slaves,  for  sen- 
ators, knights  and  people,  for  men  and  women,  was 
whether  the  blue  would  win  or  the  green." 

Already  on  the  night  before  the  people  streamed  into 
the  Circus  in  order  to  secure  seats,  for,  immense  as  was 
the  number  of  places  provided,  it  was  yet  difficult  to 
obtain  one.  In  Caesar's  time  the  Circus  had  150,000 
seats;  Titus  added  100,000  more;  finally  there  were 
385,000.53 

A  religious  service  introduced  the  sports  From  the 
Capitol,  to  the  sound  of  trumpets  and  flukes,  advanced 
a  great  procession,  led  by  the  magistrate  who  gave  the 
games  standing  on  a  chariot  as  a  triumpTiator^  followed 
by  images  of  the  gods  and  emperors  borne  on  litters 
and  accompanied  by  the  colleges  of  priests  in  full  dress. 
Then  the  whole  pompa  diabolic  as  Tertullian  says,  ent 
tered  the  Circus  through  the  chief  gate  and  moved 
with  stately  slowness  over  the  course,  the  spectators 
rising  to  their  feet  and  receiving  it  with  jubilant  cheer- 
ing and  clapping  of  hands.  All  eyes  now  turn  in 
breathless  suspense  to  the  balcony  from  which  the 
Praetor  lets  fall  the  signal  for  beginning  the  race.    The 


124  PUBLIC  GAMES.  [book  \ 

white  cloth  flutters  toward  the  couise.  Msit!  misit! 
he  has  thrown  it,  calls  one  to  the  other,  and  as  the 
rope  which  had  hitherto  closed  the  track  is  cast  off,  as 
the  chariots  burst  forth  and  veiled  in  dust  speed  over 
the  course,  as  now  this  now  that  faction  has  an  advan- 
tage, and  is  applauded  accordingly  by  its  partisans 
Among  the  spectators,  spurred  on  with  cheers,  or  loaded 
with  curses,  as  the  chariots  often  dash  in  pieces  on  the 
turning-post  and  horses  and  drivers  roll  on  the  ground 
in  a  confused  heap,  the  excitement  increases  every 
moment  even  to  frenzy  and  vents  itself  in  infuriated 
roaring.  At  length  the  victor  reaches  the  goal  and  is 
greeted  with  thunders  of  applause.  Ribbons,  favors, 
garlands  fly  to  him.  Before  the  seat  of  the  Emperor 
he  receives  the  prize-purse,  filled  with  gold,  and  the 
palm  branch,  and  amid  the  shouts  of  the  people  passes 
slowly  along  the  course  to  the  porta  triumphalis.  The 
race  is  ended,  but  only  to  be  soon  followed  by  another. 
Often  there  were  twenty-four  in  succession  with  merely 
a  short  pause  at  noon.  Even  then  many  persons  did 
not  go  home;  they  ate  in  the  Circus  and  kept  their 
places  until  evening  brought  the  show  to  an  end. 

Another  sort  of  spectacles  was  furnished  by  the 
Amphitheatres.  Here  occurred  the  gladiatorial  con- 
tests, the  hunting  of  animals,  the  representations  of 
battles  on  land  and  sea.  In  the  horse-races  of  the 
present  day  we  have  something  like  the  chariot  races  of 
the  Circus,  but  the  spectacles  of  the  Amphitheatre  are 
wholly  unlike  any  thing  moder  i.  In  Christendom  the 
only  relic  of  them  which  can  be  foimd  —  and  that  but 
slight  — -is  in  the  bull-fights  of  Spain. 

On  the  walls  of  Pompeii  we  may  still  read  the 
Inscription:    "If   the   weather  allows,  the  gladiatorial 


CHAP,  n.]  GLADIATORIAL  CONTESTS.  125 

bands  of  the  ^Edile  Suetius  Certus  will  fight,  on  the 
30th  of  July,  in  the  Arena  at  Pompeii.  There  will  also 
be  a  hunt  of  animals.  The  place  for  spectators  is  cov- 
ered, and  will  be  sprinkled."  ^  Such  an  amphitheatre 
must  have  been  a  splendid  sight,  the  seats,  rising  one 
above  another,  all  filled,  below,  people  of  rank,  sena- 
tors, knights,  ladies  magnificently  arrayed,  sparkling 
with  gold  and  precious  stones.  Vestals  in  their  sacred 
gaib ;  higher  up  the  other  orders  ;  at  the  top  the  com- 
mon people,  country-folk,  soldiers,  house-slaves.  Far 
over  the  arena  stretched  an  awning  supported  by  masts 
gay  with  pennons,  many  colored  tapestries  covered  bal- 
ustrades and  parapets,  festoons  of  roses  linked  pillar  to 
pillar,  and  in  the  spaces  between  stood  glittering  stat- 
ues of  the  gods  before  whom  rose  from  tripods  fragrant 
odors.  Every  thing  exhaled  pleasure  and  joy.  People 
laughed,  talked,  interchanged  cpurtesies,  spun  love- 
affairs,  or  bet  on  this  or  that  combatant.  And  yet 
what  a  horrible  show  it  was  at  which  the  multitude 
lingered. 

It  began  with  a  pompous  procession  of  gladiators  in 
full  armor.  Before  the  Emperor  they  lowered  their 
arms  and  cried:  "Hail,  Imperator!  they  who  are  about 
to  die  salute  tnee."  At  first  only  a  sham  fight  took 
place,  then  the  dismal  tones  of  the  tuhce  gave  the 
signal  for  the  combat  with  sharp  weapons.  The  most 
varied  scenes  followed  in  rapid  succession.  Singly  or 
in  companies  the  retiarii  camt  forward,  almost  naked, 
without  armor,  their  only  weapons  a  dagger  and  tri- 
dent, and  en  leavored  each  to  throw  a  net  over  the 
head  of  his  antagonist  in  order  to  inflict  a  death-blow. 
The  Samnites,  with  large  shields  and  short  straight 
swords,  engaged  the  Thracians  with  small  round  shields 


12d  PUBLIC  GAMES.  [book  i. 

and  curved  swords.  Combatants  clad  in  complete 
armor  aimed  at  the  joints  in  the  armor  of  their  oppo- 
nents, knights  tilted  at  each  other  with  long  lances, 
and  others,  in  imitation  of  the  Britons,  fought  standing 
on  chariots  of  war. 

All  this  was  not  for  show  nor  in  sport,  but  in  down- 
right, terrible  earnest.  If  one  fell  alive  into  the  hands 
cf  his  opponent,  the  giver  of  the  entertainment  left  the 
decision  of  life  or  death  to  the  spectators.  The  van- 
quished begged  for  his  life  by  holding  up  a  finger.  If 
they  waved  their  handkerchiefs  his  life  was  granted 
him,  if  they  turned  up  their  thumbs  this  was  a  com- 
mand for  the  fatal  stroke.  Women  even,  and  timid 
girls,  gave  lightly  and  without  hesitation  the  sign  which 
doomed  a  man  to  death.  The  brave  who  despised 
death  received  abundant  applause,  the  timorous  excited 
the  anger  of  the  people  who  considered  it  an  affront 
if  a  gladiator  would  not  cheerfully  die.  They  were 
trained  for  this  in  gladiatorial  schools  and  learned  there 
also  how  to  breathe  out  their  lives  with  theatrical  grace. 
For  this,  too,  the  giver  of  the  show  had  hired  them 
from  the  lanista,  the  owner  of  the  school.  This  fact 
appears  in  the  Institutes  as  a  question  of  law.  A 
lanista  furnished  a  private  person  a  number  of  gladia- 
tors on  the  condition  that  he  should  pay  for  every  one 
who  returned  from  the  fight  uninjured,  or  without  seri- 
ous wounds,  twenty  denarii^  for  every  one  killed  or 
badly  hurt,  one  thousand  denarii.  The  question  arose : 
Was  this  purchase  or  hire?  Caius  decided:  In  the 
case  of  the  first  class  it  was  hire,  for  they  went  back 
to  their  master ;  in  the  case  of  the  second  it  was  pur- 
chase, since  they  belong  to  him  whom  they  have  served, 
for  what  is  the  lanista  to  do  with  the  dead  or  mutilated? 


CHAP,  n.]    EXHIBITIONS  IN  THE  AMPHITHEATRE.  127 

A  right  had  thus  been  purchased  in  their  death,  and 
accordingly  those  who  hesitated  to  die  were  driven 
into  the  fight  with  scourges  and  red-hot  irons.  In- 
flamed to  madness  the  spectators  screamed :  Kill !  lash  I 
b^irn !  Why  does  he  take  the  death-blow  with  so  little 
bravery  ?    Why  does  he  die  so  reluctantly  ? 

At  the  first  spilling  of  blood,  the  roar  and  acclamar 
tioMS  of  the  crowd  increased,  it  fairly  thirsted  for 
Liood.  Before  the  vanquished  had  time  to  implore 
mercy  the  cry  for  blood  resounded,  and  the  stroke 
followed  which  put  an  end  to  life.  Officials  in  the  mask 
of  the  god  of  the  lower  world  dragged  the  still  palpi- 
tating body  with  a  hook  into  the  death  chamber,  whilst 
the  victors  proudly  flourished  their  palm  branches,  and 
the  spectators,  at  the  highest  pitch  of  excitement,  stand- 
ing on  the  benches,  shouted  approval.  In  the  pauses 
between  the  fighting  the  soil  of  the  arena,  saturated 
with  blood,  was  turned-up  with  shovels,  Moorish  slaves 
threw  on  fresh  sand,  and  smoothed  again  the  place  of 
combat.     Then  the  shedding  of  blood  began  anew. 

Together  with  the  gladiatorial  shows  proper,  fights 
with  wild  beasts  were  extremely  popular,  and  were 
carried  out  on  a  splendid  scale.  Wild  animals  were 
hunted  in  all  parts  of  the  world  in  order  to  supply  the 
Amphitheatre  at  Rome,  and  those  of  other  great  cities. 
The  hippopotamus  was  transported  from  Egypt,  the 
wild  boar  from  the  Rhine,  the  lion  from  Africa,  the 
elephant  from  India.  Even  rhinoceroses,  ostriches,  and 
giraffes  were  not  wanting.  The  beasts  of  the  desert 
were  brought  not  singly  but  by  hundreds  into  the 
arena.  Six  hundred  bears,  five  hundred  lions,  are 
mentioned  at  one  festival.  At  the  games  given  by 
Trajan  in  honor  of  the  Dacian  triumph  in  the   yeai 


128  PUBLIC  GAMES.  [book  v 

A.D.  106,  there  fought  in  all  eleven  thousand  animals 
of  the  most  diverse  species.  There  was  also  great 
vaiiety  in  the  contests.  Now  the  wild  beasts  fought 
with  one  another,  now  with  dogs  trained  for  this  pur- 
pose, now  with  men  on  foot  or  mounted. 

Still  more  magnificent  were  the  battles,  especially 
the  naval  battles,  which  took  place  in  the  Amphitheatre 
Arranged  for  their  display,  or  on  lakes  excavated  for 
this  special  purpose.  Whole  fleets  engaged  in  these 
contests.  Claudius  exhibited  on  the  lake  Fucinus  a 
sea-fight  between  vessels  of  three  and  four  benches  of 
oars,  in  which  there  were  nineteen  thousand  combat- 
ants. Domitian  had  a  new  and  larger  lake  dug,  on 
which  battles  were  fought  by  fleets  almost  as  large  as 
those  commonly  employed  at  that  time  in  war.  These 
were  not  mock-fights,  but  all  real  combats  in  which 
thousands  fell  or  were  drowned. 

While  these  spectacles  still  impress  us  by  their  mag- 
nificence, the  public  executions,  also  exhibited  as  shows 
in  the  Amphitheatre,  excite  only  emotions  of  horror 
and  disgust.  Wholly  unarmed,  or  furnished  with 
vreapons  solely  that  their  torments  might  be  protracted, 
the  condemned  were  bound  to  stakes  and  exposed  to 
famished  beasts.  There  they  lay  bleeding  and  with 
torn  garments,  while  the  people  shouted  for  joy.  And 
yet  worse  than  this  occurred.  Those  under  condemna- 
tion were  used  for  theatrical  spectacles  at  which  all  the 
arts  of  decoration  in  which  that  age  was  so  proficient 
were  brought  into  requisition -^  only  in  these  plays 
death,  sufferings,  and  agonies  were  not  feigned,  but 
actually  endured.  The  unfortunate  victims  appeared 
in  garments  interwoven  with  threads  of  gold,  and  with 
«rowns  on   their  heads,  when   suddenly  flames  burst 


OHAP.  n.]  INDIFFERENCE  TO  SUFFERING.  129 

from  their  clothing  and  consumed  them.  There 
Mucins  Scaevola  was  seen  holding  his  hand  in  a 
brazier  of  live  coals;  there  Hercules  ascended  on 
Mount  CEta  his  funeral  pile,  and  was  burned  alive; 
tliere  robbers,  hanging  on  crosses,  were  torn  limb  from 
limb  by  bears.  All  this  with  complete  theatrical  ma- 
r.hinery  hr  the  delight  of  a  sight-loving  people.^ 

We  t  irn  away  from  such  scenes  with  abhorrence. 
Antiquity  had  no  such  feeling.  We  should  searcl 
literature  in  vain  for  expressions  which  censure  and 
repudiate  this  shedding  of  blood.  Even  a  man  like 
Pliny,^^  who  usually  manifests  a  nobler  and  more 
humane  spirit,  praises,  in  his  Panegyric  upon  Trajan, 
games  "  which  do  not  enervate  the  minds  of  men,  but 
on  the  contrary  inflame  them  to  honorable  wounds  and 
contempt  of  death  as  they  perceive  even  in  slaves  and 
criminals  the  love  of  praise  and  desire  for  victory." 
Seneca  calls  them  a  light  amusement.  Once  only, 
when  he  had  accidentally  seen,  in  the  recess  at  noon, 
that  unpractised  gladiators  were  allowed  to  engage  in 
combats  which  were  mere  butchery,  does  he  express 
indignation  that  men  were  permitted  to  slaughter  each 
other  merely  for  the  amusement  of  those  who  remained 
during  the  int-^rval  in  the  Amphitheatre.^^  Ovid^ 
even  instructs  those  present  at  these  sights  to  improve 
the  offered  opportunity  for  love  making.  One  speaks 
to  his  neighbor  and  in  the  eagerness  of  conversation 
touches  her  hand,  or  asks  of  her  the  programme  and 
bets  with  htr  on  the  issue  of  the  combat.  For  women, 
too,  beheld  these  sights,  and  while  blood  flowed  in 
streams,  and  men  wrestled  with  death  in  the  arena 
below,  those  above  engaged  in  thoughtless  gallantries. 
Such  eagerness   was   there   fjr   these   spectacles,  that 


180  PUBMO  GAMES.  [book  & 

even  at  social  entertainments  gladiatorial  combats  were 
held,  and  not  infrequently  at  these  carousals  the  blood 
that  was  shed  mingled  with  the  spilt  wine. 

This  is  Heathenism,  and  let  us  mark  it  well,  not 
Heathenism  uneducated  and  rude,  but  at  the  height  of 
its  culture.  I  know  very  well  what  in  ancient  culture 
is  fundamental  and  exemplary  for  all  ages,  so  that  wc 
read,  and  rightly,  in  our  schools  the  Greek  and  Roman 
classics,  and  open  to  youth  a  view  of  the  beauty  and 
glory  of  the  ancient  world,  but  it  would  be  one-sided 
and  untrue,  should  we  for  this  reason  overlook  its  great 
defect.  It  lacked  a  genuine  culture  of  the  heart.  With 
all  the  perfection  of  form  the  heart  still  remained  the 
old,  natural,  undisciplined,  human  heart.  A  complete 
change  of  heart,  a  work  of  purification  wrought  by  a 
man  within  himself,  these  were  wholly  strange  con- 
ceptions to  Heathenism.  Herbart  has  said,  that  one 
object  of  classical  instruction  is  to  show  the  young  that 
durable  life  was  not  attained  in  Greece  and  Rome.  The 
heart  was  not  satisfied. 

The  view  which  we  thus  obtain  of  the  complete  ex- 
haustion from  life  of  moral  aims,  is  appalling.  Life  really 
had  no  longer  an  object.  The  one  great  end  for  which 
men  had  lived,  the  development  of  the  State,  no  longer 
existed.  From  the  time  when  the  Emperor  could  say: 
"I  am  the  State  I"  political  life  had  ceased.  All  that 
was  left  —  the  assemblies  of  the  people,  the  Senate,  the 
offices  derived  from  the  Republic  —  was  mere  pretence. 
No  wonder  that  men  were  wholly  absorbed  in  enjoyment, 
and  that  "  Bread  and  Games "  became  the  motto  for 
all  classes.  But  there  was  a  deeper  reason  yet  for  this 
exhaustion  of  life.  Heathenism  knew  no  goal  in  the 
life  beyond,  and  consequently  had  no  true  aim  in  the 


raiAP.  n.J    IGNORAJ7CB  OF  THE  WORTH  OF  MAN.  131 

present  life.  When  a  man  has  found  the  goal  of  exist 
ence  in  the  other  world,  his  one  great  task,  however  in 
other  respects  his  life  may  shape  itself,  is  always  within 
his  own  heart.  For  him  life  continually  retains  the 
sublime  significance  of  a  school  for  the  life  to  come, 
and  in  darkest  seasons  never  becomes  empty  and  un- 
meaning. The  heathen  knew  nothing  of  all  this. 
Therefore  in  times  of  decline,  like  those  of  the  Empire, 
their  only  resource  was  amusement.  This  drove  them 
to  the  circus  and  the  theatre,  and  made  it  an  event  in 
their  eyes  whether  the  horses  with  red  colors  or  those 
with  green  first  reached  the  goal,  whether  this  or  that 
gladiator  was  victorious. 

And  if  then,  wholly  inconceivable  as  this  now  seems 
to  us,  men  and  women,  high  and  low,  feasted  their 
eyes  on  murder  and  bloodshed,  and  saw  nothing  there- 
in but  a  light  amusement,  it  was  because  they  did  not 
regard  those  who  died  in  the  arena  amid  horrible  tor- 
tures as  men,  but  only  as  barbarians,  foreigners,  prison- 
ers of  war,  slaves,  criminals,  outcasts  of  the  human  race, 
worthless  and  dangerous.  Antiquity  lacked  any  genu- 
ine  conception  of  humanity.  The  worth  of  man  as  man, 
a  wor^h  shared  by  all,  even  by  foreigners  and  barba- 
rians, which  remains  inamissible  for  all,  even  the  most 
degraded  criminal,  which  is  to  be  honored  in  all,  even 
in  enemies,  this  was  a  truth  hidden  from  the  heathen. 
Here,  too,  was  the  root  of  slavery,  which  prevailed 
everywhere  in  Antiquity,  and  was  considered  by  Greeks 
and  Romans  as  a  perfectly  justifiable  and  indispensable 
mstitution. 

V.      SLAVERY. 

A  slave  was  not  regarded  by  the  ancients  as  a  man, 
he  had  neither  a  free  will  nor  any  claim  whatever  to 


132  SLAVBBY.  [BOOK  . 

justice,  nor  any  capacity  for  virtue.  Plato,  the  noblest 
thinker  of  antiquity,  wavers  somewhat  on  th:s  subject. 
He  concedes  that  there  are  slaves  who  have  practised 
virtue,  and  who  have  saved  their  masters  by  sacrificing 
themselves;  he  affirms  that  the  question  how  slavery 
shall  be  estimated  is  a  difficult  one,  but  comes  at  last  tc 
the  conclusion  that  it  is  a  natural  institution  since 
Nature  herself  has  destined  some  to  bear  rule,  others 
to  serve.  Aristotle  admits  no  objections  at  all.  In  a 
well-arranged  household,  he  thinks,  there  are  two  sorts 
of  instruments  —  inanimate  and  animate.  The  former 
are  slaves  without  souls,  the  latter  (slaves)  are  instru- 
ments with  souls.  But  though  a  soul  is  thus  attributed 
to  slaves,  it  is  explained  to  be  imperfect,  it  is  a  sou. 
without  will.  The  Romans  speak  in  precisely  the  same 
way.  Florus  ^^  characterizes  the  slaves  as  another  race 
of  men.  According  to  Varro,^  in  his  work  on  Agricul 
ture,  there  are  three  kinds  of  implements  for  tillage, 
those  that  are  dumb,  e.g.  wagons,  those  that  utter  in- 
articulate sounds,  e.g.  oxen,  and  those  that  talk.  The 
last  are  slaves.  Even  a  man  like  Cicero  does  not  rise 
above  this.  When  his  slave  Sositheus,  to  whom  he  was 
much  attached,  died,  he  wrote  to  Atticus :  "  Sositheus 
is  dead,  and  his  death  has  moved  me  more  than  the 
death  of  a  slave  should,"  ^^  just  as  we  sometimes  apolo 
gize  for  ourselves  when  troubled  by  the  death  of  a  dog 
or  a  canary-bird.  The  Praetor  Domitius  caused  a  sla\R 
who  made  the  mistake  on  a  hunt  of  killing  a  boar  a : 
the  wrong  time,  to  be  crucified  as  a  punishment  for  ]iitn 
offence.  Cicero  passes  merely  this  judgment  there- 
upon :  *'  This  might,  perhaps,  seem  harsh."  ^ 

These  views  were  impressed  with  the  greatest  dis- 
tinctness on  the  Roman  law.     The  slave  was  not  a  per 


CHAP,  n.]  POSITION  OF  THE  SL^l  VB.  138 

son,  but  only  a  thing  whose  owner  had  in  it  all  the 
rights  of  property,  the  right  to  use  it  or  misuse  it.  The 
slave  himself  had  no  rights.^^  He  could  not  hold  prop- 
erty. Whatever  he  had  belonged  to  his  master.  Hence 
he  could  not  be  prosecuted  by  the  latter  for  theft.  If 
a  slave  stole  any  thing  from  his  owner,  it  was  still  his 
master's.  He  could  contract  no  marriage,  nor  could 
any  action  be  brought  against  him  for  adultery.  Nei- 
ther paternity  nor  kinship  could  be  affirmed  of  him. 
The  words  might  be  used ;  it  might  be  said,  the  slave 
has  a  father,  or  relatives,  but  such  language  had  no 
legal  meaning.^*  His  testimony  was  inadmissible  in  a 
court  of  juslJice.  If  his  deposition  was  needed,  he  was 
subjected  to  torture.  Only  in  this  way  could  his  evi- 
dence have  weight. 

Though  in  many  cases  the  actual  treatment  of  slaves 
was  milder  than  the  laws,  it  corresponded  in  the  main 
to  the  principles  which  have  been  stated.  Slaves  were 
bought  and  sold,  given  away  as  presents  and  ex- 
changed, inherited  and  bequeathed,  according  to  caprice 
or  need.  They  were  also  lent  and  hired  out.  If  the 
hirer  treated  a  slave  badly,  if  a  slave  suffered  an  injury, 
was  maimed,  or  any  thing  of  the  sort,  this  was  regarded 
simply  as  deterioration  of  property.  The  loss  was 
made  up  to  the  owner,  and  the  matter  was  considered 
as  adjusted ;  no  inquiry  was  made  respecting  the  slave 
himself.  The  slave-market  was  managed  as  w'th  us  the 
cattle-market.  The  slaves,  male  and  female,  stood  ':here, 
the  more  valuable  ones  apart,  often  upon  a  raised  plat- 
form, those  of  less  price  in  gangs.  The  vendor  cried 
up  his  wares,  and  r<^ed  all  sorts  of  means  to  make  them 
better  looking ;  the  Duyers  looked  at  them,  handled  and 
felt  them,  to  be  sure  they  were  sound.     The  slaves 


134  SLAYEBY.  [BOOK  I 

were  required  to  walk,  run,  leaj»,  open  their  mouths, 
show  their  teeth,  etc.  When  purchased  they  were 
assigned,  according  to  ability  or  opportunity,  to  some 
handicraft  or  art,  to  agriculture  or  to  begging,  or  even 
to  the  gladiatorial  sports  and  the  brothel.  As  porters 
they  were  chained  in  front  of  the  gate  as  with  us  a 
house  dog,^^  and  at  night  were  shut  up  in  the  ergastula 
like  animals  in  stalls.  Like  them  they  were  branded 
and  marked  ;^^  they  were  also  flogged  and  crucified, 
often  on  the  least  occasion.^^  So  long  as  there  was 
any  hope  of  profit  from  them  they  were  spared,  and 
when  dead  they  were  cast  into  a  pit  with  dead  animals, 
unless  indeed  they  had  been  previously  exchanged, 
according  to  Cato's  advice,  for  old  oxen  and  cows.^ 
As  to-day  a  course  of  instruction  in  veterinary  science 
forms  a  part  of  the  education  of  a  farmer,  so  then  a 
large  proprietor  was  obliged  to  have  some  knowledge 
of  medicine  for  the  treatment  of  sick  slaves.  Gener- 
ally the  old  and  diseased  were  turned  off  without  con- 
cern, or  they  were  killed  outright  as  one  kills  a  brute 
beast.  In  the  city  of  Rome  they  were  usually  exposed 
on  an  island  in  the  Tiber.  Claudius  enacted  a  law  that 
those  thus  exposed  should  be  free,  and  if  they  got  well 
should  not  be  obliged  to  return  to  their  masters.  Who- 
ever killed  his  slaves,  instead  of  exposing  them,  might 
be  indicted  for  it.^^ 

Not  that  the  slaves  were  systematically  abused. 
They  were  so  much  property,  a  costly  capital,  to  be 
managed  with  the  greatest  economy.  But  the  owners 
of  this  capital,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  it  consisted 
of  human  beings,  sought  to  make  it  as  profitable  as 
possible.  Therefore  they  exacted  the  maximum  of 
labor  while  they  gave  only  the  minimum  of  what  was 


CHIP.  n.I  HAED  LOT  OP  THE  SLAVES.  185 

absolutely  necessary  for  maintenance.  The  meanest 
laborer  to-day  is  infinitely  better  off  than  the  slave  of 
that  time. 

The  hardest  lot  was  that  of  the  slaves  who  cultivated 
the  fields.  There  were  many  thousands  of  them,  for 
the  extensive  plantations  of  the  Roman  magnates  were 
carried  on  solely  by  slaves.  It  appears  that  a  rich 
Roman,  C.  Caecilius  Claudius  Isidorus,  left  over  four 
thousand  slaves,  and  others  certainly  had  no  less.  But 
few  had  liberty  of  motion,  and  these  found  a  dwelling, 
perchance,  as  Cato  directed,  near  the  feeding-place  in 
the  ox-stall.  The  majority  worked  in  chains,  and  then 
spent  the  night  on  the  damp  ground  of  the  ergastur 
lum.  These  ergastula  were  slave-prisons,  partially  under- 
ground, filthy  and  unhealthy.  Augustus  once  had 
them  investigated,  not  however,  as  we  should  suppose, 
in  the  interest  of  humanity,  but  simply  for  the  purpose 
of  ascertaining  whether  strangers  might  not  be  unlaw- 
fully imprisoned  in  them.  Nothing  was  said  about 
improving  the  lot  of  the  slaves,  although  the  horrors  of 
their  condition  were  fully  disclosed.  Worse,  if  possi- 
ble, was  the  state  of  the  slaves  who  worked  in  the 
city  in  great  factories,  or  who  were  otherwise  employed. 
The  field-slave  enjoyed  at  least  the  free  air ;  but  they, 
scantily  clothed,  their  heads  haK  shorn,  their  breasts 
branded,  were  compelled  to  toil  all  day  in  the  low 
work-house  without  respite.  On  the  other  hand  the 
position  of  house-slaves,  of  whom  there  were  often 
many  hundreds  in  the  palaces  of  Rome,  was  more 
tolerable.  They  were  sometimes,  especially  at  the 
Imperial  court,  persons  of  position  and  wealth,  and 
had,  even  as  slaves,  and  still  more  as  freedmen,  great 
influence  with  their  masters.     Still  their  lot  too  was 


136  SLAVERY.  [BOOK  l 

hard,  and  in  many  cases  horrible.  Dumb  and  fasting 
such  a  slave  must  stand  whole  nights  long  behind  the 
chair  of  his  carousing  master,  wipe  off  his  spittle  or 
quickly  remove  his  drunken  vomit.  Woe  to  him  if  by 
whispering,  or  even  by  sneezing  or  coughing,  he  dis- 
turbed the  peace  of  the  feaster.  He  was  exposed  to 
every  caprice  of  his  owner.  A  word,  and  he  was  sent 
to  the  field-slaves  m  the  prisons  on  one  of  his  master's 
numerous  estates,  or  scourged  till  blood  came,  or  horribly 
killed,  or  thrown  as  food  to  the  fishes.  Caligula  caused 
a  slave  who  had  made  some  trifling  mistake  at  a  public 
spectacle,  to  be  thrown  into  prison,  tortured  for  several 
days  in  succession,  and  then  executed  when  at  last  the 
putrefying  brain  of  the  poor  wretch  diffused  too  strong 
an  odor  for  the  cruel  monster.  A  Roman  magnate  con- 
demned a  slave,  who  carelessly  broke  a  valuable  vase  at 
a  banquet  in  the  presence  of  Augustus,  to  be  thrown  to 
the  fishes,  and  not  even  the  Emperor's  intercession 
could  save  him.  Not  merely  the  arbitrariness  of  a 
capricious  master,  but  the  law  also  dealt  thus  rigor- 
ously with  the  slaves.  According  to  the  old  Roman 
law,  when  a  master  was  killed  in  his  house,  the  slaves 
who  had  passed  the  night  under  his  roof  were  all  exe- 
cuted if  the  murderer  was  not  discovered.  This  law 
was  still  in  force  as  late  as  the  time  of  the  Empire. 
When,  under  Nero,  the  city  prefect  Pedanius  Secundus 
was  murdered,  four  hundred  slaves  of  every  sex  and 
age,  down  even  to  the  smallest  children,  were  put  to 
death.  To  be  sure  opposition  arose  in  the  Senate,  but 
a  senator  of  distinction,  C.  Cassius,  made  a  speech  iii 
favor  of  the  old  usage  with  such  effect  that  the  Senate 
decided  to  carry  the  law  rigorously  through,  and  it 
was  even  proposed  to  render  it  ^till  more  severe  by 


CHAP,  n.]  SPEECH  OF  CASSIUS.  137 

requiring  that  all  freedmen  who  had  been  in  the  house 
should  be  banished  from  Italy.  The  speech  of  Caiuj^ 
Cassius,  preserved  by  Tacitus,  gives  us  a  deep  insight 
into  the  customs  of  that  age,  as  well  as  into  the  per- 
nicious consequences  of  slavery.  He  reminded  his 
hearers  of  the  danger  to  which  all  masters  of  slaves 
would  be  exposed  if  the  ancestral  usage  should  in  this 
case  be  forsaken.  Whom  will  his  own  dignity  secure 
when  that  of  the  prefecture  of  the  city  has  been  of  no 
avail?  Whom  will  the  number  of  his  slaves  defend 
when  four  hundred  have  not  protected  Pedanius 
Secundus?  It  is  impossible  that  the  murderer  could 
have  planned  and  executed  the  deed  without  excilr 
ing  suspicion.  The  slaves  in  the  house  must  ha^e 
observed  some  indications  of  the  crime,  but  they  haie 
not  divulged.  The  slaves  must  be  brought  to  do  th?8 
by  fear.  "  If  the  slaves  disclose  we  can  live  single 
among  many,  safe  among  the  anxious,  and,  if  we  must 
perish,  be  not  unavenged  among  the  guilty.  The  di's- 
positions  of  slaves  were  regarded  with  suspicion  by 
our  ancestors  even  when  they  were  born  on  the  same 
estates,  or  in  the  same  houses  with  them,  and  from 
infancy  had  experienced  the  love  of  their  masters. 
Now,  however,  when  we  have  nations  among  our  slavoa 
with  various  rites,  with  foreign  religions,  or  none  at  aL, 
it  is  not  possible  to  control  such  a  rabble  except  by 
fear."  Thus  mistrust  on  the  part  of  the  masters  and  feai 
oi:  the  part  of  the  slaves,  were  the  principles  in  accord 
ance  with  which  the  slave-holders,  and  in  their  interest 
:he  State  also,  were  obliged  to  act.  Should  the  objec 
tioi:  be  raised  that  thus  innocent  persons  would  perish, 
Cassius  replies :  "  When  every  tenth  person  in  a  de- 
feated army  is  put  to  death,  some  who  have  been  brave 


188  SLAVERY.  [BOOK  I. 

draw  the  fatal  lot.  Every  great  example  has  pome- 
thing  unjust  in  it,  but  this  is  counterbalanced  by  the 
public  good."  7^ 

Never  has  an  opponent  of  slavery  set  forth  its  demor 
alizing  effects  so  clearly  as  did  the  representative  of  the 
slave-holders  on  this  occasion  in  the  Senate.  The  influ-  i 
ence  of  slavery  was  necessarily  disastrous  on  the  morals 
of  the  higher  classes.  A  man  can  exercise  dominion 
over  a  brute  without  degradation,  for  it  is  subordinated 
to  him,  but  to  govern  his  fellow-man  like  a  beast  must 
lower  him  morally,  for,  since  no  restraint  is  laid  upon 
him,  he  is  always  in  danger  of  giving  the  reins  to  his 
passions.  Slavery  made  masters  cruel  and  hard,  and 
not  seldom  even  women,  renouncing  the  gentleness  oi 
their  sex,  took  pleasure  in  torturing  their  female  slaves. 
Among  their  slaves  the  masters  found  pliant  tools  for 
every  deed  of  shame,  otherwise  sins  against  purity 
especially  could  never  have  become  so  excessive  and 
appalling.  The  low  position  of  woman  in  Antiquity 
was  also  a  consequence  of  slavery.  Its  effects  upon 
children  were  even  more  injurious.  They  were  wholly 
abandoned  to  the  care  of  the  slaves.  The  slave  had 
no  authority  and  was  ready  to  please  the  child  in  every  \ 
thing,  otherwise  he  had  reason  to  fear  the  anger  of  his 
master,  or  mistress.  There  must  have  been  many  a 
father  who  exclaimed  to  his  slave  like  the  father  in  the 
comedy:  "Wretch,  thou  hast  ruined  my  son!"  The 
worst  result  of  slavery  was,  that  every  form  of  honor- 
able labor  was  despised,  and  became,  as  a  service  of 
Slaves,  a  disgrace.  Slavery  did  not  allow  the  formation 
of  a  middle  class,  and  so  the  check  was  wanting  which 
might  have  restrained  the  wider  diffusion  of  the  moral 
ruin  pre\alent  among  the   higher    orders.      That  Id 


CHAP.  n.1       PERNICIOUS  EFFECTS  OF  SLAVERY.  139 

Rome  the  corruption  proceeding  from  the  Imperial 
court  and  a  debased  aristocracy  penetrated  so  quickly 
and  so  deeply  the  entire  people,  is  due,  in  no  slight 
degree,  to  slavery. 

The  slaves,  in  return,  became  what  their  treatment 
made  them.  As  they  were  deemed  incapable  of  any 
virtue,  and  arbitrarily  and  capriciously  treated,  so  they 
became  low-minded,  lazy,  lying,  and  treacherous.  The 
sly,  perfidious  slave  is  a  constantly  recurring  character 
in  Greek  as  well  as  Roman  comedy.  No  one  thought 
of  improving  the  slaves  morally.  There  was  but  one 
virtue  for  them,  —  absolute  obedience  to  their  masters, 
for  good  or  for  ill.  A  slave  had  no  moral  responsibility 
whatsoever.  Conversely,  the  slaves  looked  upon  their 
masters  as  only  their  enemies,  and  were  inclined,  when- 
ever opportunity  occurred,  to  revenge  and  insurrection. 
So  many  slaves  as  a  man  has,  so  many  foes  has  he,  was 
a  saying  often  heard. 

The  freedmen  were  another  very  bad  and  pernicious 
element  in  the  life  of  the  Roman  people.  They  were 
exceedingly  numerous.  During  the  civil  wars  many 
slaves  had  served  in  the  army  and  had  been  rewarded 
by  the  victor  with  their  liberty.  Manumissions  fre- 
quently occurred,  also,  in  other  ways ;  occasionally  from 
attachment  and  gratitude,  oftener  from  self-interest, — 
IS  those  who  were  enfranchised  had  to  furnish  a  ransom, 
or  pay  a  heavy  tax,  from  their  earnings  to  their  mas- 
ters,—  and  from  vanity,  in  order  that  great  throngs 
of  freedmen  might  parade  in  the  funeral  procession  of 
their  master.  It  became  necessary  to  restrict  manu- 
missions by  special  laws.  All  classes  of  the  population 
were  fiUed  with  freedmen.  From  them  were  recruited 
the  lower  officials,  mechanics,  and  tradesmen.    Soma 


140  SLAVERY.  [BOOK  i 

acquired  large  wealth  and  shone  as  parvenus  by  a  prod^ 
igality  as  senseless  as  extravagant.  Many  remained 
in  the  families  of  their  former  masters  as  valets,  secre- 
taries, or  stewards,  and  played  an  important  part,  not 
merely  in  the  houses  of  Roman  magnates,  but  also  at 
the  Imperial  court.  The  free  Roman  shunned  every 
relation  which  implied  service.  He  deemed  it  a  dis- 
grace even  to  serve  the  Emperor,  and  would  rather  be 
fed  by  the  State  as  a  proletary.  Consequently  the 
Emperors  were  obliged  to  seek  their  servants  among 
the  freedmen.  The  posts  of  secretaries,  and  treasurers, 
were  regularly  held  by  them  under  the  Julian  Emperors, 
and  more  than  once  freedmen  actually  ruled  the  State. 
Still  the  stain  of  their  birth  always  clung  to  them ; 
they  never  attained  to  the  dignity  of  a  freeman,  and 
consequently  did  not  possess  the  character  and  spirit  of 
a  freeman,  but  even  as  freed  remained  servile.  Among 
them  tyrants  found  their  most  manageable  tools,  and 
from  their  ranks  helpers  for  every  deed  of  violence 
could  easily  be  obtained.  At  home  in  all  classes  of 
the  population,  they  were  specially  influential  in  the 
diffusion  of  moral  contagion. 

We  should,  indeed,  err,  if  we  supposed  that  in 
Antiquity  no  one  thought  of  the  rights  of  the  slaves  as 
human  beings.  Such  a  sentiment  is  clearly  and  beau- 
tifully expressed  by  the  older  Greek  poets.  "  Many  a 
slave  bears  the  infamous  name  whose  mind,  neverthe- 
less, is  freer  than  theirs  who  are  not  slaves,"  says  Eurip- 
ides,'^^ and  another  Greek  poet"^  says  yet  more  posi- 
tively :  "  Though  he  be  a  slave,  he  is,  O  master,  none 
the  less  a  man."  The  Stoic  school  with  much  greater 
eneigy  began  to  advocate  the  human  rights  of  the  slave 
Thid  was  a  coisenuence  of  its  doctrine  of  the  unity  of 


CfHAP.  1A.J  HUMANER  SENTIMBNTS.  141 

mankind  "  Man  is  a  sacred  thing  to  man,"  says  Sen- 
eca :  "  we  are  all  formed  from  the  same  elements*  and 
have  the  same  destiny."  "^^  "He  errs  who  thinks  that 
slavery  takes  possession  of  the  whole  man.  His  better 
part  is  excepted.  Bodies  are  subject  to  masters,  the 
soul  remains  free."  ^^  He  regards  it  as  a  misfortune  if 
a  man  is  born  a  slave,  but  this  is  not  a  determination  of 
nature,  and  in  one  place  he  calls  the  slaves  his  "  hum- 
ble friends."  ^^  We  shall  see,  further  on,  that  such 
thoughts  became  increasingly  prevalent  in  the  heathen 
world,  and  more  and  more  transformed  Roman  laws 
and  customs.  But  at  first  they  had  little  influence. 
Slavery  was  held  to  be  absolutely  necessary,  and  there- 
fore justifiable.  Notwithstanding  all  that  was  said,  it 
had  on  its  side  established  usage,  law,  and  public 
opinion."^^ 

Not  until  men  were  taught  that  whom  the  Son 
makes  free,  they  are  free  indeed,  not  till  He  was  pro- 
claimed who  Himself  took  the  form  of  a  servant  and 
died  the  death  of  a  slave  on  the  cross,  did  the  full  day 
of  liberty  begin  to  break  for  slaves,  a  day  which  neither 
the  theories  of  the  Stoics,  nor  Seneca's  fine  words 
respecting  the  dignity  of  man,  could  ever  have  brought. 
Much  is  said,  at  the  present  time,  about  humanity,  and 
it  is  opposed  to  Christianity  as  something  higher,  or  at 
least  it  is  brought  forward  as  a  substitute  for  Christian- 
ity which  is  assumed  to  be  in  a  state  of  decrepitude. 
This  is  wholly  to  forget  that  true  humanity  is  the  prod- 
uct of  Christianity  ."^^ 

VI.      THE   NEED   OF  MORAL  RENEWAI« 

A  gloomy  picture  has  imrolled  itself  before  us.  I 
am  conscious  that  I  have  not  designedly  painted  it  toe 


142  NEED  OF  MORAL  RENEWAL.  [book  i 

dark,  but  that  it  may  not  seem  blacker  than  the  reality, 
let  us  not  forget  that  in  the  midst  of  this  fearful  cor- 
ruption some  sounder  elements  must  still  have  existed. 
Otherwise  the  Roman  Empire  could  not  have  stood  so 
long  as  it  did.  What  we  know  of  its  moral  life  is 
derived  chiefly  from  Rome  itself,  and  unquestionably 
there,  at  the  centre,  the  corruption  was  greatest,  whilst 
in  the  provinces,  and  in  the  camps  of  the  legions,  it 
had  not  made  so  great  progress.  From  thence  accorc' 
ingly  came  a  reaction,  which  brought  to  the  Empire, 
when  the  Julian  house  had  passed  away,  a  brilliant 
after-smnmer  under  the  noble  Emperors  of  the  second 
century.  We  must  remember,  also,  that  in  accounts 
concerning  that  time,  as  all  others,  the  unfavorable 
aspects  are  very  naturally  the  most  emphasized.  For 
goodness  has  always  but  little  to  say  about  itself,  and 
in  times  of  declension  is  peculiarly  apt  to  be  quiet. 
We  may  safely  assume,  therefore,  that  even  then  there 
were  peaceful,  decorous  homes  into  which  corruption 
had  not  penetrated,  where  the  labor  of  the  hands  pro- 
cured the  simple  fare,  and  the  discreet  house-wife  reared 
her  children  as  a  good  mother.  Yet  when  all  this  is 
taken  into  account,  the  general  conclusion  must  still 
be  that  the  heathen  world  was  ethically  as  well  as  reli- 
giously at  the  point  of  dissolution,  that  it  had  become  aa 
bankrupt  in  morals  as  in  faith,  and  that  there  was  no 
power  at  hand  from  which  a  restoration  could  proceed. 

It  has  indeed  recently  been  affirmed  that  the  corrup- 
tion of  morals  was  not  worse  then  than  at  many  other 
periods ;  and  parallels  from  later  centuries  have  been 
adduced  in  justification  of  this  assertion.  Without 
doubt  there  are  such.  The  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  and 
those  of  the  princes  of  his  day,  afford  many  a  counter^ 


CHAP,  n.]  RELIGION  AND  MORALITY.  143 

part  to  tlie  Imperial  court  in  Rome.  Yet  two  things 
should  not  be  overlooked.  First,  that  at  no  other 
period  has  moral  corruption  been  so  universal  as  in 
that  of  the  Emperors.  At  the  time  when  the  greatest 
dissoluteness  prevailed  in  the  court  at  Versailles,  what 
simplicity  and  strictness  characterized  the  life  of  the 
people  I  Such  an  entire  stratum  of  population  not  yet 
open  to  corruption,  no  longer  existed  in  Rome.  Sec- 
ondly,—  and  this  is  of  chief  importance,  —  for  Chris- 
tian nations  there  is  provided  in  Christianity  a  power 
which  can  restore  the  moral  life  again  and  again  from 
the  deepest  degradation.  The  ancient  world  was  desti- 
tute of  any  such  power.  After  its  palmy  age  —  a  time 
of  comparative  soundness  —  was  gone,  after  corruption 
had  once  entered,  it  degenerated  beyond  recovery. 
Heathenism  bore  within  itself  no  power  of  moral 
renewal. 

Or,  where  can  such  a  power  be  supposed  to  have 
resided  ?  In  Religion  ?  We  shall  see  that  later, 
towards  the  end  of  the  second  century,  there  occurred 
a  strong  reaction  of  pagan  faith.  In  place  of  the  unbe- 
lief which  prevailed  in  the  first  century,  superstition 
gained  the  ascendancy,  and  this  change  reacted  upon 
mcrals;  but  reaction  is  not  regeneration.  Though 
the  pagan  faith  once  more  arose  in  might,  and  ap 
peared,  especially  against  Christianity,  as  an  impor- 
tant power,  it  could  not  effect  a  moral  transformation., 
because  the  relation  which  subsisted  between  heathen 
faith  and  morality  was  wholly  unlike  that  which  exists 
between  Christian  faith  and  Christian  life.  There  was 
indeed  a  connection.  The  gods  were  regarded  by  the 
heathen  as  the  protectors  of  the  moral  law ;  they  pun- 
ished evil  and  rewarded  goodness.    But  there  was  thia 


144  NEED  OF  MORAX.  RENEW  AX..  [book  i 

great  difference  between  the  two  systems :  the  heathen 
deities  were  neither  the  authors  of  the  moral  law  nor 
its  exemplars.  Just  as  little  could  they  impart  strength 
for  its  fulfilment.  On  the  contrary,  judged  by  its 
requirements,  the  gods  themselves  were  the  most  hein- 
ous transgressors.  What  immoralities  do  the  pagan 
myths  relate  of  the  gods,  and  instances  are  by  no 
means  wanting  in  which  the  heathen  appeal,  in  justifica- 
tion of  their  iniquities,  to  the  examples  of  the  gods. 
Looking  up  to  them  had  a  demoralizing,  rather  than  a 
purifying,  effect.  "  If  I  could  only  catch  Aphrodite  ! " 
once  exclaimed  Antisthenes,  a  friend  of  Socrates,  "I 
would  pierce  her  through  with  a  javelin,  she  has  cor- 
rupted so  many  of  our  modest  and  excellent  women."  ^^ 
In  the  writings  of  Terence  ^^  an  adulterer  expressly 
pleads  the  example  of  Jupiter,  an  incident  assuredly 
not  merely  invented,  but  taken  from  life.  "  If  a  god 
does  it,"  so  he  concludes,  "  why  should  not  I,  a  man  ?  " 
From  such  deities  no  purifying  influence  could  proceed. 
For  his  moral  life  the  pagan  was  referred  wholly  to 
himself.  This  is  the  reason  why  there  was  no  virtue 
in  which  the  ancient  world  was  so  deficient  as  humil- 
ity. It  was  utterly  incomprehensible  to  a  Greek  or  a 
Roman,  for  such  virtues  as  he  possessed  were  self- 
acquired  without  divine  aid.  Therefore  he  was  proud 
of  them,  and  boasted  of  them  even  in  comparison  with 
the  gods.  The  Stoics  deemed  themselves  as  good  as 
the  gods.  Even  Seneca,  who  complains  so  often  about 
human  frailty,  says :  "  Give  your  whole  mind  to  Philos- 
ophy, be  absorbed  in  it,  cultivate  it,  and  you  will  far 
surpass  all  other  men,  and  be  little  inferior  to  the 
gods."  ^  StiU  more  characteristic  is  the  maxim  also  to 
be  found  in  the  writings  of  Seneca :  "  Admire  only  thy- 


CHAP,  n.]  THE  STATE  AND  MORALITY.  146 

self."  ®'  Repentance,  renewal  througli  contrition,  were 
to  the  heathen  utterly  strange  ideas.  This  is  the  pro- 
foundest  reason  why  a  reactionary  movement  might 
proceed  from  the  heathen  religion,  but  not  a  moral 
recovery,  not  a  regeneration. 

Or  could  such  a  restoration  emanate  from  the  State? 
This  preserved,  unquestionably,  the  best  which  that  age 
had.  There  still  remained,  in  a  good  degree,  the  old 
Roman  bravsry,  patriotism,  and  readiness  to  make  sacri- 
fices for  the  public  good.  Among  the  legions  which 
along  the  Rhine  protected  the  frontier  5rom  the  barba- 
rians already  storming  against  it,  and  which  more  than 
once  bore  their  victorious  eagles  to  Germany  and 
beyond  the  sea  to  Britain,  and  on  the  North  and  East 
extended  the  boundaries  of  the  Empire,  making  theii 
camps  at  the  same  time  centres  of  civilization,  some- 
thing of  the  old  spirit  still  survived.  For  this  reason 
the  sovereignty  naturally  fell  into  their  hands,  and  it 
was  the  soldier  Emperors  who  had  grown  up  in  the 
camps,  who,  for  a  while,  kept  the  structure  of  the  old 
civilization  fi'om  falling  to  pieces.  But  from  this  source 
a  moral  renewal  could  not  come.  The  State  was  sick 
to  the  very  marrow,  and  this  dominion  of  soldiers  was 
itself  only  a  symptom  of  the  disease.  What  the  State 
lacked  was  the  bond  of  conscience,  which  secures  the 
obedience  of  citizens  to  the  laws  not  merely  from  com- 
pulsion, but  for  conscience'  sake.  No  State  can  exist 
without  sj'ibmission  to  the  laws,  but  woe  to  the  State 
which  endeavors  to  secure  this  result  simply  by  force, 
and  whose  citizens  no  longer  render  a  willing  obedience 
from  conscientious  regard  to  its  authority.  The 
heathen  faith,  the  dread  of  the  avenging  deities,  had 
been  such  a  moral  bond.     This  bond  was  loosened  and 


£46  NEED  OF  MORAIi  BENEWAIi.  [book  l 

from  day  to  day  became  increasingly  relaxed,  the  more 
religion  declined.  The  State  itself  needed  regenera- 
tion, if  it  was  not  to  fall  asunder ;  and  the  nobler  Empe- 
rors of  the  later  time,  even  down  to  Diocletian,  sought 
for  a  religions  basis,  on  which  alone  such  regeneration 
was  possible,  sought  for  a  new  bond  of  conscience  with 
which  to  unite  again  what  was  falling  apart.  They 
found  none.  Religion  can  quicken  the  life  of  the  State 
80  that  it  may  flourish  anew  after  temporary  decay,  but 
the  process  cannot  be  reversed.  Never  can  the  moral 
and  religious  life  of  a  people  be  restored  by  any  powers 
at  the  command  of  the  State. 

There  remains  Philosophy.  Often  looked  upon  dis 
trustfully  by  the  first  Emperors,  often  persecuted  out- 
right because  it  was  suspected  that  behind  the  philoso- 
pher was  a  republican,  it  grew  in  favor,  until,  in  the 
person  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  the  philosopher,  it  ascended 
the  Imperial  throne.  It  became  indispensable  to  the 
culture  of  a  Roman  noble  to  frequent  the  schools  of 
the  philosophers.  Such  schools  were  promoted  in 
every  way,  and  even  the  salaries  for  their  teachers 
were  provided  by  government.  The  more  philosophy 
was  absorbed  in  ethics,  and  the  philosopher's  task 
was  not  merely  to  teach  but  to  train  in  virtue,  so 
much  the  more  prevalent  became  the  custom  of  taking 
Buch  persons  into  families,  and  the  house-philosopher 
became  as  regular  an  appendant  of  a  household  cf 
rank  as  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  castle-chaplain.  The 
family  philosopher,  like  a  father  confessor  or  pastor, 
was  expected  to  be  ready  with  counsel  for  those  in- 
trusted to  his  charge,  and  to  impart  consolation  in  the 
hour  of  death.  This  was  a  need  which  doubtless 
fipened  a  way  for  Christianity,  by  which  alone  it  co  aid 


raAP.  n.]  rHILOSOPHY  AND  MORALITY.  147 

be  truly  satisfied.  The  phUosopliers  discoursed  even 
in  the  streets.  In  the  midst  of  the  tumult  of  sen- 
sual pleasures,  to  which  the  world  was  devoted,  the 
roices  of  the  Cynics  rang  out,  proclaiming  renuncia- 
tion, and  freedom  from  wants,  as  the  way  to  peace. 
Not  unlike  the  mendicant  monks  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
they  roved  about  without  fixed  habitation  or  family, 
often  clad  in  a  ragged  mantle  or  simply  a  bear-skin,  with 
unkempt  hair  and  shaggy  beard,  a  wallet  slung  over  the 
shoulders,  and  alms  their  only  means  of  support.  In 
the  Forum  they  stopped  the  rich  to  declare  to  them  that 
nothing  is  more  unhappy  than  a  man  who  has  never 
met  with  any  thing  untoward ;  on  the  street  they  stood 
in  the  midst  of  the  rabble  and  discoursed  of  the  corrup- 
tion of  the  world.  Often  they  were  rewarded  only 
with  taunts,  or  even  a  cudgelling,  but  they  took  it 
calmly,  for,  they  said,  it  is  the  will  of  the  Deity,  to 
which  all  things  must  be  subordinated  and  sacrificed. 

Certainly  these  phenomena  make  us  feel  that  the 
old  world  was  not  contented  with  its  condition.  Here 
too  its  longing  and  yearning  for  renewal  are  apparent, 
and  just  as  really,  its  inability  of  itself  to  bring  this  to 
pass.  What  sort  of  persons  usually  were  these  preach- 
ers of  repentance  ?  They  inculcated  renunciation  and 
virtue,  but  if  one  offer  them  a  piece  of  cake,  mocks  a 
contemporary,  they  lower  their  speech  and  evince  their 
greatness  of  soul  by  accepting  nothing  small.  And 
though  there  were  nobler  figures  among  the  plmcao- 
phers  than  these  philosophasters,  what  was  it,  after  all, 
that  was  cultivated  in  their  schools  ?  Rhetoric,  nothing 
more.  They  discoursed  about  virtue,  oh  with  how  many 
fine  words,  with  what  art  of  facial  expression  and  of 
gesture;  they  declpzmed  without   end  upon  the  old 


148  NEED  OF  MORAL  RENEWAL.  tBa>K  i 

themes ;  "  Death  is  no  evil,"  "  The  wise  man  who  kec^a 
himself  free  from  all  needs  is  the  happy  man ; "  the  old 
examples  were  praised;  men  plumed  themselves  upon 
the  splendor  of  their  own  virtue;  but  in  reality  all 
this  (as  we  have  already  seen  in  the  case  of  Seneca) 
was  mere  words.  How  a  man  attains  to  the  virtue 
which  is  praised  so  much,  how  he  becomes  another 
man,  how  he  conquers  death,  no  one  of  those  who 
talked  so  finely  could  really  tell.  Upon  the  people 
Philosophy  had  at  first  no  influence  at  all.  They  were 
even  despised  by  these  proud  professors  of  an  esoteric 
wisdom,  and  deemed  incapable  of  any  higher  culture 
and  virtue.  "With  its  empty  heaven,  its  single  doc- 
trine of  duty,  its  sole  reward  in  a  satisfied  conscience, 
its  proud  bearing  toward  the  gods,  from  whom  it  asked 
nothing,  and  the  annihilation  which  it  contemplated 
without  trembling.  Stoicism  was  made  for  select  souls, 
not  for  the  masses."^  For  the  heathen  Philosophy 
can  be  claimed  neither  the  glory  which  St.  Paul 
ascribes  to  the  preaching  of  the  cross,  that  it  was  not 
in  lofty  words,  but  in  demonstration  of  the  Spirit  and 
of  power,  nor  that  of  the  Gospel,  that  it  was  preached 
to  the  poor. 

Thus  there  was  nowhere  to  be  found  a  power  com- 
petent to  the  gigantic  task  of  a  moral  renewal  of  the 
ancient  world.  This  power  must  come  from  another 
source,  from  above.  When  to  those  who  "  were  some- 
times foolish,  disobedient,  deceived,  serving  divers  lusts 
and  pleasures,  living  in  malice  and  envy,  hateful  and 
hating  one  another,"  the  kindness  and  love  toward  man 
of  God  our  Saviour  appeared,  then  was  first  opened  the 
fountain  from  which  a  new  and  healthful  life  flowed 
forth  for  diseased  humanity ;  then  the  Gospel  gathered 


OHAP.  II.]  POWBB  FROM  ABOVE  149 

communions  the  opposite  of  that  which  the  heathen 
world  had  become,  modest,  chaste,  diligent,  their  affec- 
tions set  upon  things  above,  the  salt  of  the  earth,  the 
light  of  the  world.  But  obviously  the  more  corrupt 
the  world  was  in  the  midst  of  which  they  stood,  the 
more  terrible  must  have  been  the  conflict,  until,  in 
place  of  the  old  pagan  world,  appeared  a  new  Christian 
world,  in  which  indeed  sin  is  always  present,  and  moral- 
ity is  only  fragmentary,  but  in  which  grace  is  mightier 
than  sin,  in  which  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come  rule 
as  powers  of  regeneration,  and  in  which,  therefore,  we 
can  say:  We  were  sometimes  foolish,  disobedient, 
deceived ;  we  were,  but  are  so  no  more.  To  God  be 
praise  and  thanksgiving ! 


CHAPTER  in. 

THE  CHEISTIANS. 

"  T%6it  ye  may  be  without  rebuke,  in  the  midst  of  a  crooks  andperovrm 
nation,  umong  whom  ye  shine  as  lights  in  the  world.'*  —  'Phil.  ii.  16. 

I.      THE   PREACHING   OF  THE   GOSPEL. 

Never  in  the  whole  course  of  human  history  have 
two  so  unequal  powers  stood  opposed  to  each  other  as 
ancient  Heathenism  and  early  Christianity,  the  Roman 
State  and  the  Christian  Church.  Apparently,  the 
weakest  of  forces  confronted  the  strongest.  Remem- 
ber the  enormous  power  concentrated  in  the  Roman 
Empire ;  consider  not  merely  the  material  resources  of 
the  State,  but,  also,  that  Heathenism  had  possession  of 
every  sphere  of  life,  public  and  private,  that  it  filled 
the  State  and  the  family,  and  ruled  all  culture,  and 
bear  in  mind,  besides,  the  tenacious  power  dwelling  in 
a  cultus  which  has  prevailed  for  centuries.  Contrast 
with  this  the  Christian  Church  as  it  was  in  its  begin- 
nings, totally  destitute  of  all  this  might,  possessing  nei- 
ther political  power  nor  wealth,  neither  art  nor  science, 
a  little  company,  in  the  world's  judgment,  of  unlearned 
men,  fishermen,  publicans,  tent-makers,  with  only  the 

150 


CHAP.  ra.j  ASSURANCE  OP  VIOTOBT.  161 

word  of  the  cross,  the  message  that  the  promised 
Messiah  has  appeared,  that  in  the  crucified  and  riser? 
One  there  is  salvation  for  all  peoples.  Verily,  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  a  grain  of  mustard  seed, 
small  and  insignificant ;  is  like  leaven,  little  as  compared 
with  the  mass  of  the  meal ;  but  it  is  a  living  seed,  it  is 
a  transforming  leaven,  it  bears  within  itself  an  energy 
which  is  not  of  this  world,  and  therefore  ia  mightier 
than  the  whole  world. 

Think  once  more  of  Paul  on  the  Areopagus  in 
Athens.  The  glory  of  the  ancient  world  surrounds 
him,  before  his  eyes  are  the  noblest  works  of  art  which 
Greece  has  produced,  the  Propylaea,  the  Parthenon,  the 
masterpieces  of  a  Phidias.  In  his  wanderings  through 
this  city  of  ancient  renown  he  has  seen  the  numerous 
temples,  the  altars  and  images  of  the  gods,  and  the  zeal 
with  which  they  are  worshipped.  Around  him  are 
philosophers  reared  in  the  schools  of  Grecian  wisdom, 
Epicureans  and  Stoics,  proud  of  their  wisdom,  masters 
of  form  and  style.  And  yet  tliis  Jewish  tent-maker 
stands  forth  and  preaches  to  them  that  all  this  belongs 
to  a  past  time,  that  now  a  new  era  has  begun,  and  offers 
to  make  known  to  them  something  before  which  all  that 
glory  fades,  all  their  worship  proves  futile,  and  all  their 
wisdom  is  as  foolishness.  Such  language  expressed  more 
than  human  courage ;  there  was  in  it  a  joyfulness  such 
as  could  have  sprung  only  from  the  certainty  of  pos- 
sessing in  the  Gospel  a  divine  power  able  to  cope  with 
all  those  earthly  forces,  an  assurance  to  which  this 
same  Apostle  gives  expression  when  he  writes  to  the 
Corinthians  (1  Cor.  i.  25) :  "  The  foolishness  of  God  ia 
wiser  than  men,  and  the  weakness  of  God  is  strongei 
than  men." 


152  THE  PREACHING  OF  THE  GOSPEL.       [book  i 

From  the  beginning  Christianity  bore  within  itseli 
the  consciousness  of  universal  dominion,  and  the  full 
assurance  of  victory  over  all  the  powers  of  the  world 
"  Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth,  ye  are  the  light  of  the 
world ! "  the  Lord  had  said  to  the  disciples,  and,  "  Go 
ye  and  make  disciples  of  all  the  nations,"  was  his  part- 
ing command.  So  they  went  forth  to  conquer  the 
world  for  Him  to  whom  they  belonged,  admitting  no 
doubt  that  the  victory  would  be  theirs.  "  Greater  is 
he  that  is  in  you,  than  he  that  is  in  the  world  I "  and 
"our  faith  is  the  victory  which  hath  overcome  the 
world ! "  exclaims  John ;  and  in  proof  that  the  Chris- 
tians, even  after  the  times  of  the  Apostles,  in  the  midst 
of  a  conflict  to  human  view  so  unequal,  held  fast  this 
joyful  assurance,  it  will  be  enough  to  recall  the  beauti- 
ful words  of  the  Epistle  to  Diognetus :  "  What  the  soul 
is  in  the  body,  that  are  Christians  in  the  world.  The 
soul  is  diffused  through  all  the  members  of  the  body, 
Christians  are  scattered  through  all  the  cities  of  the 
world.  The  soul  dwells  in  the  body,  yet  is  not  of  the 
body,  so  Christians  dwell  in  the  world,  yet  are  not  of 
the  world.  The  soul  is  imprisoned  in  the  body,  yet 
it  holds  the  body  together ;  so  Christians  are  co&fined 
in  this  world  as  in  a  prison,  yet  they  hold  the  world 
together."  ^ 

In  truth  all  that  Christianity  had  to  oppose  to  the 
whole  might  of  Heathenism  was  simply  the  word,  the 
testimony,  of  Christ.  But  this  testimony  was  preached 
from  a  living  faith,  with  demonstration  of  the  Spirit 
and  of  power,  and  was  accompanied  by  the  testimony 
of  life  and  conduct  as  a  palpable  proof  for  all,  of  the 
transforming  and  renewing  power  inherent  in  this  word. 
The  preaching  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ  approved 


CHAP,  in.]        IMPRESSION  UPON  THE  HEATHEN.  163 

itself  in  the  practice  of  love  to  the  brethren,  and  what 
Christians  confessed  they  sealed  in  suffering  with  their 
blood.  Ye  shall  testify  of  me !  was  the  Master's  com- 
mission to  His  disciples,  and  thus  He  pointed  out  to 
them  the  way  to  overcome  the  world.  The  early  (/hris- 
tians  were  also  witnesses,  and  testifying  of  Christ  by 
word  and  life,  in  their  love  and  suffering  they  won  the 
victory ;  or  rather.  He  Himself  conquered  through  His 
witnesses. 

In  the  Roman  Catacombs  among  the  oldest  pictures, 
which  certainly  are  as  early  as  the  second  century, 
there  is  a  representation  of  the  gift  of  water  in  the 
desert  as  Moses  smites  the  rock  with  his  rod,  and  the 
people,  with  vessels  for  drinking,  press  round  the 
gushing  water.2  The  picture  unquestionably  reflects 
the  impression  made  at  that  time  by  the  preaching  of 
the  word.  In  the  barren  wilderness  of  Heathenism 
where  men  had  sought  and  dug  for  water  so  long  that 
at  last  they  were  in  despair  of  finding  any,  now  welled 
freshly  forth  the  fountain  of  living  water  springing  up 
into  everlasting  life,  and  thus  many  a  soul  among  the 
heathen  thirsting  for  truth,  many  a  seeker  after  wisdom 
in  the  schools  of  the  philosophers,  in  the  temples  of 
gods  the  most  diverse,  or  in  Jewish  houses  of  prayer, 
found  here  his  deepest  longing  satisfied. 

We  possess  two  narratives  of  the  conversion  of 
heathen,  which  although  not  belonging  to  the  very 
earliest  period,  are  yet  admirably  adapted  to  show  us 
the  unpression  made  by  Christian  truth  upon  suscepti- 
ble spirits,  and  the  ways  in  which  they  came  to  it. 
One  of  these  narratives  is  contained  in  a  kind  of 
romance  from  the  middle  of  the  second  century,  the 
sio-called  Clementine  Homilies,  in  which  ostensibly  Clem 


154  THE  PEEACHINQ  OP  THE  GOSPEL.         Lbook  i 

ent  of  Rome  relates  to  us  his  history.  "  From  my  ear- 
liest youth,"  he  says,  "I  thought  much  concerning 
death,  and  of  what  may  be  after  death.  When  I  die 
shall  I  cease  to  exist  and  be  remembered  no  more? 
Has  the  world  been  made,  and  what  was  there  before  it 
was  made  ?  In  order  to  learn  something  definite  about 
these  and  similar  questions,  I  used  to  resort  to  the 
schools  of  the  philosophers.  But  nought  else  did  I  see 
chan  the  setting  up  and  knocking  down  of  doctrines, 
and  strifes  and  contentions,  and  artificial  reasonings 
and  invention  of  premises.  Now  the  opinion  pre- 
vailed that  the  soul  is  immortal,  now  that  it  is  mortal. 
If  the  former  I  was  glad,  if  the  latter  I  was  sorrowful. 
Perceiving  that  opinions  were  deemed  true  or  false 
according  to  the  ability  of  those  who  maintaiaed  them, 
and  not  according  to  their  real  nature,  I  was  more  than 
ever  perplexed.  Wherefore  I  groaned  from  the  depths 
of  my  soul.  For  neither  was  I  able  to  establish  any 
thing,  nor  could  I  refrain  from  solicitude  concerning 
such  themes.  And  again  I  said  to  myself:  Why  do  I 
labor  in  vain  ?  If  I  am  not  to  live  after  death,  I  need 
not  distress  myself  now  while  I  am  alive.  I  will  reserve 
my  grief  till  that  day  when,  ceasing  to  exist,  I  shall 
cease  to  be  sad.  But  if  I  am  to  exist,  of  what  advan- 
tage is  it  to  me  now  to  distress  myself?  And  immedi- 
ately another  thought  came  to  me.  Shall  I  not  suffer 
worse  there  than  now  ?  If  I  do  not  live  piously,  shall 
I  not  be  tormented  like  Sisyphus  and  Ixion  and  Tan- 
talus ?  And  again  I  replied :  But  there  is  no  ti-uth  in 
such  stories.  But  if  there  be  ?  Therefore,  said  I,  since 
the  matter  is  uncertain,  it  is  safer  for  me  to  live  piously. 
But  I  am  not  fully  persuaded  what  is  t?iat  righteous 
thing  that  is  pleasing  to   God,  neither  do  I    kno\f 


caatAF.  ra.J       STOBY  OF  CLEMENT.    JUSTIN  MARTYE.       156 

whether  the  soul  is  immortal  or  mortal,  nor  do  I  find 
any  sure  doctrine,  nor  can  I  abstain  from  such  reason- 
ings. What  am  I  to  do  ?  I  will  go  into  Egypt,  and 
seek  and  find  a  magician,  and  will  persuade  hini  with 
large  bribes  to  conjure  up  a  soul.  And  so  I  shall  learn 
by  ocular  proof  whether  the  soul  is  immortal."  From 
this  purpose  he  was  dissuaded  by  a  friendly  philosopher, 
on  the  ground  that  the  gods  are  angry  with  those  who 
disturb  the  dead.  Clement  therefore  remained  without 
relief,  until,  hearing  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles,  he 
determined  to  seek  them.  He  first  found  Barnabas, 
and  was  greatly  impressed  by  the  fact  that  in  his 
preaching,  Barnabas  did  not  concern  himself  with  the 
objections  of  the  philosophers,  their  subtle  questions 
and  their  ridicule  of  his  simple  and  illogical  discourses, 
but  calmly  declared  such  things  as  he  had  heard  and 
seen  Jesus  do  and  say,  and  substantiated  his  statements 
by  witnesses  instead  of  by  artificial  demonstrations. 
Afterwards  he  found  Peter,  obtained  from  him  a  sure 
answer  to  his  questions,  and  became  a  Christian.  All 
this  is  only  fiction,  but  the  colors  of  the  picture  were 
certainly  taken  from  life,  and  the  imaginary  narrative 
of  Clement  was  doubtless  the  actual  history  of  many. 

In  a  similar  manner  Justin  Martyr  tells  us  of  his 
fruitless  wanderings  through  the  schools  of  the  philoso- 
phers in  search  of  certainty  and  peace  of  mind.  A 
Stoic,  under  whose  instruction  he  first  placed  himself, 
asserted  that  the  sure  knowledge  of  God,  which  Justin 
chiefly  longed  for,  was  a  subordinate  question  of  philo- 
sophical speculation.  A  Peripatetic,  of  whom  he  next 
inquired,  demanded,  after  a  few  days,  as  of  primary 
importance,  that  he  should  settle  the  fee.  This  repelled 
Justin,  and  he  went  to  a  Pythagorean,  who  dismissed 


156  THE  PREACHING  OF  THE  GOSPEL.         [book  i 

him  immediately,  because  he  had  no  knowledge  of 
music,  geometry  and  astronomy,  an  acquaintance  with 
which  the  Pythagorean  declared  was  pre-requisite  to  the 
study  of  philosophy,  since  they  are  the  means  by  which 
the  soul  absorbed  in  earthly  things  may  be  purified. 
Justin  then  turned  to  a  Platonist,  and  supposed  that  he 
had  reached  the  goal,  for  his  teacher  introduced  him  to 
the  Platonic  doctrine  of  ideas,  and  the  pupil  already 
dreamed  that  he  had  become  a  sage  and  was  near  to  the 
vision  of  Deity.  Then,  walking  alone  one  day  on  the 
shore  of  the  sea,  he  met  an  old  man,  a  mature  Christian, 
and  fell  into  conversation  with  him  on  divine  things. 
The  venerable  man  showed  him  that  God  can  be  per- 
ceived only  by  a  mind  sanctified  by  the  Spirit  of  God, 
and  so  affected  him  that  all  at  once  his  proud  dream  of 
knowledge  vanished.  The  old  man,  seeing  his  conster- 
nation, pointed  him  to  the  divine  Word  as  the  source  of 
all  true  knowledge  of  God,  and  began  to  tell  him  of 
Christ.  Following  these  hints,  Justin  found  in  Chris- 
tianity that  sure  knowledge  of  God  which  he  had 
sought  for  in  vain  in  the  different  schools  of  philoso- 
phers.^ 

Doubtless,  what  principally  attracted  the  heathen  and 
held  them  fast,  was  the  fact  that  with  the  Christians 
was  to  be  found  full  assurance  of  faith  on  the  basis  of 
a  divine  revelation.  They  did  not  ask :  What  is  truth? 
but  they  preached:  "Grace  and  truth  came  through 
Jesus  Christ."  They  did  not  dispute  pro  and  contra  as 
in  the  schools,  nor  was  their  final  conclusion  that  we 
can  know  nothing  with  certainty,  but:  "  That  which  we 
have  heard,  which  we  have  seen  with  our  eyes  and  our 
hands  have  handled  of  the  word  of  life,  that  declare 
we  unto  you."     They  did  not  prate  about  trifles  like 


<!HAP.  ra.]         CHAEACI^ER  OF  THE  PREACHING.  157 

the  Rhetoricians,  who  with  the  most  incredible  affecta- 
tion of  far-fetched  words  now  pronounced  a  eulogy  upon 
obscurity  or  laziness,  now  discussed  the  dangerous  ill- 
ness of  a  member  of  the  Imperial  household  as  a  wel- 
come theme  for  rhetorical  artifice,  but  they  spoke  simply 
and  plainly  upon  the  highest  themes  and  such  as  are 
necessary  to  the  salvation  of  the  soul.  They  said 
nothing  about  artificial  ways  of  attaining  the  favor  of 
God,  such  as  the  wandering  magicians  and  hierophants 
scraped  together  in  order  that  they  might  with  much 
mystification  proclaim  them  as  the  only  saving  wisdom, 
—  for  example,  when  one  of  them  tried  to  prove  that 
the  surest  way  to  please  God  was  always  in  libation  to 
pour  the  wine  exactly  over  the  handle  of  the  pitcher, 
as  that  is  the  only  part  which  is  not  defiled  by  man's 
mouth.  On  the  contrary  Christians  bore  witness  to 
facts,  the  facts  of  Redemption:  "God  was  in  Christ 
reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself;"  Christ  "was 
delivered  for  our  offences,  and  was  raised  again  for 
our  justification."  To  all  was  made  known  the  one 
true  God,  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
preached  not  as  the  result  of  philosophical  speculation, 
but  upon  the  basis  of  His  word,  not  as  a  secret  doctrine 
for  a  few  wise  men,  but  publicly  to  all,  even  the  poor 
and  the  insignificant.  "Not  only  the  rich  among  us," 
says  Tatian,  "  seek  for  wisdom,  but  the  poor  also  enjoy 
instruction  gratuitously."  *  "  Every  Christian  laborer," 
says  Tertullian,  "both  finds  out  God  and  manifests  Him, 
though  Plato  affirms  that  it  is  not  easy  to  discover  the 
Maker  of  the  universe,  and  when  He  is  found  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  make  Him  known  to  all."  ^ 

The  sign  which  our  Lord  adduced  in  proof  of  His 
Mespiahship :  "To  the  poor  the  Gospel  is  preached," 


158  THE  PBE ACHING  OP  THE  GC^SFEL.  Tbook  i 

was  now  abundantly  fulfilled.  It  is  a  characteristic  of 
those  times  that  the  circle  of  the  poor,  the  oppressed, 
the  unprotected,  the  enslaved  was  so  large.  What  an 
impression  must  have  been  made  upon  such  persons,  on 
all  who  were  without  possessions,  who  had  no  share  in 
the  wealth  and  pleasures  of  Rome,  upon  the  obscure 
and  down-trodden,  on  the  artisans  who,  because  they 
lived  by  the  work  of  their  hands,  were  regarded  as  of 
no  account  by  the  ancient  world  proud  of  its  learning 
and  culture,  of  whom  even  a  Plato  said  their  life  serves 
no  other  end  than  the  practice  of  their  trade,  and  if 
they  fall  sick  they  must  be  left  to  their  fate  since  they 
can  no  longer  fulfill  their  calling,  on  the  crowds  of 
slaves  in  their  lot  so  unworthy  of  human  beings;  what 
impression  must  have  been  made  on  these,  when  the 
poor  Jesus,  who  Himself  died  the  death  of  a  slave,  was 
proclaimed  to  them,  and  in  Him  access  to  a  divine 
kingdom  which  embraces  all  men,  in  which  there  are 
nc  more  masters  nor  servants,  nor  any  who  are  trodden 
under  foot.  Even  in  the  second  century  Celsus  scoff- 
ingly  says  that  workers  in  wool  and  in  leather,  and 
fullers,  and  persons  the  most  uninstructed  and  rustic, 
were  the  most  zealous  ambassadors  of  Christianity,  and 
brought  it  first  to  women  and  children.^  But  the 
mockery  of  the  heathen  bore  witness,  against  theiT 
will,  to  the  power  of  the  preached  word,  and  what  was 
only  a  matter  of  scorn  to  cultivat»)d  pagans  was  to  our 
Lord  a  subject  of  praise  when  He  said :  "  I  thank  Thee, 
O  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  because  Thou  hast 
hid  these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast 
revealed  them  unto  babes.  Even  so.  Father,  for  so  it 
seemed  good  in  Thy  sight  (Matt.  xi.  25,  26)." 

Another  satire  of  the  same  enemy  of  the  Christians, 


CHAP,  m.]  THE  FORGIVENESS  OP  SINS.  159 

Celsus,  gives  us  a  still  deeper  view  of  the  power  of  the 
evangelical  preaching.  "  Let  us  hear,"  he  says,  "  what 
kind  of  persons  these  Christians  invite.  Every  one, 
they  say,  who  is  a  sinner,  who  is  devoid  of  understand- 
ing, who  is  a  child,  him  will  the  kingdom  of  God 
receive^  They  assert  that  God  will  receive  the  sinner 
if  he  humble  himself  on  account  of  his  wickedness, 
but  that  He  will  not  receive  the  righteous  man 
al'.iiough  he  look  up  to  Him  with  virtue  from  the 
beginning."  ^  This  seems  to  Celsus  thoroughly  absurd. 
"  It  is  manifest  to  everybody,"  he  thinks,  "  that  no  one 
by  punishment,  much  less  by  showing  mercy,  could 
wholly  change  those  who  are  sinners  both  by  nature 
and  custom."^  It  was  precisely  this  preaching  of 
grace  which  had  such  power  over  men's  spirits.  Now 
the  consciousness  of  sin  awoke  in  the  heathen  world, 
and  a  longing  for  redemption.  Now  many  souls 
groaned  under  the  burden  of  their  sins  and  asked  for  a 
purification,  for  an  atonement.  Here  they  found  what 
they  had  sought  for  in  vain  in  the  heathen  temples, 
in  manifold  consecrations  and  lustrations,  in  numer- 
ous ascetic  practices  and  acts  of  wearisome  self-denial, 
which  continually  gained  a  larger  place  in  the  pagan 
cultus.  In  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  of  God  they  were 
offered  the  free  forgiveness  of  all  sins,  and  'u  Baptism 
a  laver  of  purification  which  cleansed  them  from  all 
defilement.  The  invitation  of  our  Lord :  "  Come  unto 
Me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest,"  preserved  all  the  more  its  power  since 
in  the  decaying  world  whose  splendor  and  jcy  were 
daily  fading,  the  number  of  the  weary  and  hea^y  laden 
was  daily  increasing. 
And  at  a  time  when  the  attention  of  men  was  turned 


160  THE  PREACHING  OF  THE  GOSPEL  [book  u 

with  great3r  longing  to  the  other  world,  w!ien,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  question  was  more  and  more  earnestly 
discussed;  Is  there  another  life?  and  how  can  we 
attain  to  a  blessed  existence  there?  what  an  impres- 
sion must  have  been  made  when  the  Resurrection  of 
Christ  was  proclaimed.  Here  was  the  answer  to  all 
such  questions,  not  upon  the  basis  of  doubtful  proofs 
and  reasonings  which,  as  Clement  says,  could  be  turned 
now  for,  now  against  immortality,  but  on  the  ground 
of  a  fact.  Here  was  offered  what  the  heathen  world 
lacked,  a  living  hope.  It  was  attested  at  the  graves 
of  Christians.  There  were  heard,  not  cries  of  lamen- 
tation, but  the  singing  of  psalms  :  "  Precious  in  the  sight 
of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  his  saints,"  "  Return  unto 
thy  rest,  O  my  soul;  for  the  Lord  hath  dealt  bounti- 
fully with  thee,"  "Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil ;  for 
Thou  art  with  me ; "  there  resounded  a  victorious 
"  Hallelujah !  death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory !  "  and 
the  inscriptions  on  the  unpretending  graves:  "He 
lives  I "  "  In  peace !  "  show  that  Christians  had  become 
sure  of  eternal  life.  Even  the  attacks  of  the  heathen, 
which  were  more  vehement  against  this  article  of  the 
Christian  faith  than  any  other,  even  the  terrible  scorn 
with  whi  ^h  they  exclaimed,  as  the  bodies  of  the  martyrs 
in  Lyons  were  burned,  and  the  ashes  cast  into  the 
Rhone :  "  We  shall  now  see  if  they  will  rise,"  sufficiently 
prove  the  power  exerted  upon  men's  minds  by  the 
preaching  of  the  Resurrection  and  of  eternal  life. 

n.       WORSHIP   AND   CHURCH   LIFE. 

The  religious  services  of  the  Christians  also  made  a 
deep  impression  upon  the  heathen.     Pagan  worship  was 


CHAP,  ra.l  CHKISTIAN  WORSHIP.  161 

everywhere  destitute  of  devotion.  The  Roman  rel  igion 
was  a  lifeless  ritualism,  a  punctilious  repetition  of  litur- 
gical formulas,  although  the  language  used  had  ceased 
to  be  intelligible.  Among  the  Greeks  raillery  and  jests 
were  practised  in  connection  with  their  most  solemn 
processions.  When,  at  the  celebration  of  the  greater 
Eleusinian  mysteries,  the  mystse  marched  in  procession 
to  Eleusis,  they  were  greeted  at  the  bridge  over  the 
Cei)hissus  with  all  sorts  of  jokes  and  gibes,  many  of 
them  exceedingly  coarse.  Even  at  the  chorus  dance 
on  the  meadow  near  Eleusis,  similar  sport  was  made. 
The  Oriental  cults  were,  on  the  contrary,  a  sort  of  orgy, 
in  which  ecstasy,  exaggerated  often  to  frenzy,  took  the 
place  of  devotion. 

The  worship  of  the  Christians  was  the  exact  oppo- 
site to  this  heathen  cultus.  Pomp  and  splendor  were 
not  to  be  found  among  persons  so  poor,  but  their  service 
was  a  worship  of  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  No  tem- 
ples, no  altars,  no  images,  was  their  rule.^  They  needed 
no  temple,  they  who  were  themselves,  according  to  the 
testimony  of  the  Apostle,  the  living  temple  of  God, 
built  upon  the  foundation  of  the  Apostles  and  Proph- 
ets, Jesus  Christ  Himself  being  the  chief  corner-stone.^* 
In  houses  here  and  there,  in  little  narrow  rooms,  or  in 
a  hall  when  a  wealthy  member  of  the  church  possessed 
such  an  apartment,  they  were  wont  to  assemble  for  sing- 
ing, reading  of  the  Scriptures,  prayer,  and  celebration 
of  the  Lord's  Supper.  In  the  early  days  it  often  hap- 
pened that  one  or  another  member  of  the  congregation, 
whc  had  received  the  gift,  spoke  a  word  of  edification  ; 
but  generally,  and  in  later  times  exclusively,  this  ser 
Tice  devolved  upon  the  president.  We  possess  several 
descriptions  of  this  primitive  Christian  worship,  wJiicb 


162  WORSHIP  AND  CHURCH  LIFE.  [book  i 

are  as  simple  as  was  the  service  itself,  yet  in  their  sim- 
plicity testify  to  its  vitality,  its  freedom  from  dead 
forms,  its  perfect  truth.  Pliny  the  Younger,  while 
governor  in  Bithynia,  instituted  inquiries  respecting 
the  faith  and  the  life  of  Christians,  and  also  by  tortures 
extorted  confessions  from  some  deaconesses.  The  in 
formation  which  he  thus  obtained  he  embodied  in  a 
letter  to  the  Emperor  Trajan.  "The  Christians,"  he 
says,  "  affirmed  that  it  was  their  custom  to  meet  on  a 
stated  day  before  sunrise,  and  sing  a  hymn  to  Christ  as 
to  a  god ;  that  they  further  bound  themselves  by  an 
oath  "  (obviously  the  baptismal  vow)  "  never  to  commit 
any  crime,  but  to  abstain  from  robbery,  theft,  adultery, 
never  to  break  their  word,  nor  to  deny  a  trust  when 
summoned  to  deliver  it,  after  which  they  would  sepa- 
rate and  then  re-assemble  for  the  purpose  of  eating  in 
common  a  harmless  meal.""  Still  more  exactly  does 
Justin  describe  this  worship r^^  "On  Sunday,  all  who 
live  in  cities  or  in  the  country  gather  together  to  one 
place,  and  the  memoirs  of  the  Apostles  or  the  books  of 
the  prophets  are  read,  as  long  as  time  permits.  Then, 
when  the  reader  has  ended,  the  president  in  a  discourse 
instructs,  and  exhorts  to  the  imitation  of  these  glorious 
examples.  Then  we  all  rise  together  and  send  upwards 
our  prayers.  And  when  we  have  ceased  from  prayer, 
bread  and  wine  and  water  are  brought,  and  the  presi- 
dent offers  prayers  and  thanksgivings  according  to  his 
ability.  The  congregation  assent,  saying  Amen ;  and 
there  is  a  distribution  to  each  one  present  of  the  conse- 
crated things,  and  to  those  who  are  absent  a  portion  is 
sent  by  the  deacons.  And  they  who  are  well-to-do  and 
willing  give  what  each  thinks  fit,  and  the  collected 
gifts  are  deposited  with   the   president,   who   succors 


<JHAP.  m.]  THE  AGAP^.  168 

with  them  the  widows  and  orphans.  <»-nd  those  who 
through  sickness  or  any  other  cause  are  in  want,  and 
those  who  are  in  bonds,  and  the  strangers  sojourning 
among  us,  in  short,  all  who  are  in  need."  Connected 
at  first  with  the  Lord's  Supper,  afterwards  separated 
from  it,  were  the  Agapce^  whose  observance  is  hinted 
at  in  the  letter  of  Pliny.  The  whole  congregation  met, 
like  one  family,  at  a  common  meal.  Tertullian  de- 
scribes these  feasts  as  they  were  observed  in  his  day. 
"  Our  meal,"  he  writes,^^  "  explains  itself  by  its  name. 
It  is  designated  by  the  Greek  word  for  love  (^Agape)^ 
Whatever  it  costs,  our  outlay  is  gain  if  we  thus  benefit 
the  poor.  This  is  the  honorable  occasion  of  our  repast. 
By  this  judge  its  further  regulations.  As  it  is  an  act  of 
religious  service,  it  permits  no  vileness,  nor  excess.  We 
do  not  go  to  the  table  until  we  have  first  tasted  of 
prayer  to  God ;  we  eat  as  much  as  satisfies  the  hungry ; 
we  drink  as  much  as  is  profitable  for  the  chaste.  We 
satisfy  ourselves  as  those  who  remember  that  during 
the  night  also  God  is  to  be  worshipped ;  we  converse 
as  those  who  know  that  the  Lord  hears  them.  After 
water  for  the  hands  and  lights  are  brought,  each  one  is 
called  upon  to  praise  God,  either  from  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures or  of  his  own  mind ;  hence  it  is  proved  how  much 
he  has  drunken.  As  the  feast  began,  so  it  is  closed, 
with  prayer.  Thence  we  separate,  not  into  bands  for 
violence,  nor  for  roaming  the  streets,  but  to  take  the 
same  care  of  our  modesty  and  chastity  as  if  we  had 
been  at  a  place  of  instruction  rather  than  at  a  ban- 
quet." Imagine  such  a  religious  service  in  its  sim 
plicity  and  youthful  freshness,  think  of  some  church  in 
times  perhaps  of  persecution,  expecting  every  moment 
that  spies  will  betray  them  or  a  mob  break  in  with 


164  WORSHIP  AND  CHURCH  LIFE.  [book  i 

yells  and  stones;  yet  hymns  and  psalms  resound,  the 
word  of  life  is  preached  with  plainness  and  holy 
earnestness,  the  congregation  rise  for  prayer,  the  presi 
dent  leads,  all  join  with  him  and  solemnly  repeat  the 
Amen,  all  receive  the  body  and  blood  of  the  Crucified 
One,  whom  perhaps  they  will  soon  follow  in  death,  all 
unite  in  the  feast  of  love,  and  with  prayer  and  the  kiss 
of  peace  they  depart  —  verily,  we  can  understand  how 
the  heathen  who  only  once  attended  such  a  service 
should  in  many  instances  have  been  thereby  won  for- 
ever. In  their  temples  dead  ceremonial  worship,  here 
one  of  the  living,  life-giving  Word ;  there  a  dumb,  inac- 
tive mass  of  spectators,  while  the  priest  alone  had  inter- 
course with  Deity,  here  a  participating,  singing,  hear- 
ing, praying  communion,  all  priests  of  the  living  God. 
Already,  in  1  Cor.  xiv.  24,  25,  we  read  that  unbeliev- 
ers, who  should  see  and  hear  this,  would  be  deeply 
moved,  fall  on  their  faces,  worship  God,  and  confess 
that  God  was  in  them  of  a  truth ;  and  Eusebius,  in  his 
history,  testifies  explicitly :  "  The  Holy  Spirit  wrought 
many  wonders  through  them,  so  that  vast  crowds,  at 
the  first  hearing  of  the  Gospel,  eagerly  received  it  into 
their  hearts."  ^* 

The  Christians  had  what  the  heathen  lacked,  congre- 
gational life.  Antiquity  was  not  destitute  of  public 
spirit.  On  the  contrary  this  existed  to  a  special  degree, 
as  is  proved  by  the  numerous  legacies  and  donations, 
and  by  the  erection  of  public  buildings,  of  which 
inscriptions  give  us  information.  In  the  domain  of 
industrial  life  the  impulse  to  association  was  very 
strongly  developed.  Colleges  were  instituted  for  the 
different  branches  of  industry,  and  endowed  with 
funds  for  the  relief  of  the  sick  and  the  dying,  and  foi 


CHAP,  m.]  CHRISTIAN  CHURCHES.  166 

burials.  There  were  colleges  also  for  religious  pur- 
poses, associations  for  the  service  of  special  deities. 
The  provincial  assemblies  QKoinori)  were  a}so  united 
by  religious  festivals.  But  there  was  nothing  like  the 
Christian  societies  in  pagan  antiquity.  Polytheism  did 
not  admit  of  it.  Public  spirit  developed  itself  simply 
on  the  political  side.  But  as  political  life  declined  it 
offered  less  and  less  room  for  activity.  Freedom  ceased 
to  exist,  all  were  slaves  of  one.  Every  act  by  which  a 
man  distinguished  himself,  every  illustrious  achievement 
was  attended  with  the  danger  of  exciting  the  jealousy 
of  the  soverp  rn  power.  Municipal  life  retained  at 
first  more  free  om,  but  its  offices,  which  had  formerly 
been  sought  as  positions  of  honor,  became  in  time  so 
burdensome  on  account  of  the  heavy  expenses  con- 
nected with  them,  that  every  one,  as  far  as  possible, 
avoided  them,  so  that  it  became  necessary  to  enforce 
their  acceptance  by  law.  In  the  Christian  communities, 
on  the  other  hand,  a  circle  was  formed  which,  although 
small,  was  all  the  more  active.  Controlled  by  the 
spirit  of  fellowship,  and  united  in  fraternal  affection 
by  a  common  faith,  all  the  members  labored,  prayed 
and  suffered  together.  In  such  a  society  there  was 
room  for  every  kind  of  activity,  and  opportunity  for 
the  most  varied  talents.  There  freedom  found  a  sanc- 
tuary, and  there,  in  the  midst  of  action  and  suffering, 
noble  characters  could  unfold  and  grow  strong. 

m.      CONDUCT  OF  THE   CHRISTIANS. 

And  what  testimony  to  the  truth  of  Christianity  waa 
given  by  the  conduct  of  its  professors.  "Among  us," 
pleads  Athenagoras,^^  addressing  the  heathen,  "  you  can 
find  uneducated  persons,  artisans,  and  old  women,  who. 


166  CONDUCT  OF  THE  CHEISTIAJifS.  [book  l 

if  they  are  unable  in  words  to  prove  the  benefit  of  the 
Christian  doctrine,  yet  by  their  deeds  exhibit  the  bene- 
fit arising  from  their  choice."  Times  without  number 
the  defenders  of  Christianity  appeal  to  the  great  and 
advantageous  change  wrought  by  the  Gospel  in  all  who 
embraced  it,  and  continually  set  foith  the  contrast 
between  the  lives  of  men  before  and  after  conversion,  to 
which  St.  Paul  often  refers  in  his  Epistles.  "  We  who 
formerly  delighted  in  fornication,"  says  Justin  Martyr 
in  his  First  Apology, ^^  "now  strive  for  purity.  We 
who  used  magical  arts,  have  dedicated  ourselves  to  the 
good  and  eternal  God.  We  who  loved  the  acquisition 
of  wealth  more  than  all  else,  now  bring  what  we  have 
into  a  common  stock,  and  give  to  every  one  in  need. 
We  who  hated  and  destroyed  one  another,  and  on 
account  of  their  different  manners  would  not  receive 
into  our  houses  men  of  a  different  tribe,  now,  since  the 
coming  of  Christ,  live  familiarly  with  them.  We  pray 
for  our  enemies,  we  endeavor  to  persuade  those  who 
hate  us  unjustly  to  live  conformably  to  the  beautiful 
precepts  of  Christ,  to  the  end  that  they  may  become 
partakers  with  us  of  the  same  joyful  hope  of  a  reward 
from  God,  the  Ruler  of  all."  This  distinction  between 
Christians  and  heathen,  this  consciousness  of  a  com- 
plete change  in  character  and  life,  is  nowhere  more 
beautifully  described  than  in  the  noble  epistle  of  an 
unknown  author  to  Diognetus."  "  For  Christians,"  it 
says,  "are  distinguished  from  other  men  neither  by 
country,  nor  language,  nor  the  customs  which  they 
observe;  for  they  neither  inhabit  cities  of  their  own, 
nor  employ  a  peculiar  form  of  speech,  nor  lead  a  singu- 
lar life."  And  yet  they  are  wholly  different  from  the 
heathen.     "They  dwell  in  their  own  countries,   but 


CHAP.  ni.J    CHRISTIANS  DIFFER  FROM  HEATHEN.  167 

simply  as  sojourners.  As  citizens  they  share  in  all 
things  with  others,  and  yet  endure  all  things  as  if  they 
were  foreigners.  They  marry  as  do  all,  and  have  chil- 
dren, but  they  destroy  none  of  their  offspring.  They 
have  a  table  common,  but  not  unclean.  They  are  in 
the  flesh,  but  they  do  not  live  after  the  flesh.  They 
pass  their  days  on  earth,  but  they  are  citizens  of 
heaven.  They  obey  the  prescribed  laws,  and  at  the 
same  time  surpass  the  laws  by  their  lives.  They  love 
all,  and  are  persecuted  by  all ;  they  are  unknown  and 
are  condemned;  they  are  put  to  death  and  yet  live; 
they  are  poor  yet  make  many  rich ;  they  are  in  want  of 
ail  fcfiings,  yet  abound  in  all ;  they  are  dishonored,  and 
yet  in  their  very  dishonor  are  glorified;  they  are 
revi]?d,  and  bless;  they  are  insulted,  and  repay  the 
insult  with  honor;  they  do  good  yet  are  punished  as 
evil-doers;  when  punished  they  rejoice.  They  are 
assailed  by  the  Jews  as  foreigners,  and  are  persecuted 
by  tJi«  Greeks,  yet  those  who  hate  them  are  unable  to 
assig  n  any  reason  for  their  hatred."  With  confidence 
can  '  Pertullian  appeal  to  the  transactions  of  the  courts, 
in  w  bich  no  crime  had  ever  been  proved  against  Chris- 
tiauM  but  that  of  their  faith.  "  Daily,"  he  addresses  the 
heai  hen,^^  "  you  are  presiding  at  the  trials  of  prisoners, 
and  passing  sentence  upon  crimes.  In  your  long  lists 
of  1  hose  accused  of  many  and  various  atrocities,  what 
assassin,  what  cutpurse,  what  plunderer  of  bathers' 
cloiiihes  is  also  entered  as  being  a  Christian  ?  Or,  when 
Chrisitians  are  brought  before  you  on  the  mere  ground 
of  their  name,  who  among  them  is  ever  chargeable  with 
su-  ^h  offences  ?  It  is  always  with  your  folk  the  prison 
is  Ktftaming,  the  mines  are  sighing,  the  wild  beasts  are 
fe4  i  it  is  from  you  the  exhibitors  of  gladiatorial  shows 


168  CONDUCT  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  [book  x 

always  get  their  herds  of  criminals  to  feed  \ip  for  the 
occasion.  You  find  no  Christian  there,  except  for 
being  such."  Even  the  heathen  themselves  could  not 
escape  from  this  impression.  The  influence  of  Chris 
tian  faith  upon  life  and  conduct  was  so  powerful  that 
heathen  hatred  itself  could  not  but  acknowledge  it. 
Galen,  the  celebrated  physician,  certainly  a  cool  ob- 
server and  an  unimpeachable  witness,  says,  that  most 
men  must  be  taught  by  similes.  In  this  way  those  who 
were  called  Christians  had  derived  their  faith  from  the 
parables  of  their  Master.  Yet  they  acted  often  as  those 
who  followed  the  true  philosophy.  "  We  are  witnesses 
that  they  have  learned  to  despise  death,  and.  that  for 
shame  they  keep  themselves  from  carnal  pleasures. 
Among  them  are  men  and  women  who  abstain  from 
marriage;  some,  too,  who  in  their  endeavors  to  rule 
their  spirits,  and  to  live  nobly,  have  made  such  progress 
that  they  come  short  in  no  respect  of  true  philosophers." 
Christianity  as  yet  presented  none  of  the  external 
advantages  which  afterwards  brought  into  the  church 
so  many  spurious  members.  Instead  of  power,  honor 
and  wealth,  it  offered  reproach,  derision  and  constant 
peril.  Nor  did  custom  and  tradition  yet  incline  men  to 
the  mere  outward  profession  of  Christianity.  Whoever 
adopted  the  new  faith  did  so  from  personal  conviction, 
and  with  the  heart.  Such  an  act  was  itself  a  sacrifice ; 
for  whoever  became  a  Christian  was  compelled  to  re- 
nounce not  only  immemorial  prejudices,  but  usually, 
alsoj  father  and  mother,  brothers  and  sisters,  friends 
and  relatives,  perhaps  office,  place  and  employment. 
The  turning-point  between  the  pre-Christian  and  the 
Christian  life  stood  out  with  great  distinctness.  It  is 
characteristic  of  a  period  of  conflict  that  sudden  con- 


OHA«p.  m.]  SUDDEN  CONVERSIONS.  169 

versions  are  more  frequent  then  than  at  other  times, 
that  the  marvel  inherent  in  every  conversion  becomes 
more  evident,  and,  so  to  speak,  more  palpable.  Not 
infrequently  did  it  happen  that  the  execution  of  a 
Christian  occasioned  the  immediate  conversion  of  some 
among  the  guards,  soldiers,  executionOis  and  spec- 
tators. According  to  credible  testimonies^  yet  more 
striking  changes  occurred.  Under  Diocletian,  an  actor 
in  Rome,  Genesius,  appeared  in  a  play  in  which  the 
Christians  were  ridiculed.  He  performed  his  part  with- 
out hesitation  and  to  the  delight  of  the  people,  until 
the  moment  when  he  was  to  ask  for  baptism.  Seized 
by  an  irresistible  power  he  suddenly  stood  still  and 
silent,  and  then  explained  to  the  astonished  audience, 
that  he  himself  desired  to  become  a  Christian.  Upon 
this  he  left  the  stage,  received  baptism,  and  soon  sealed 
his  faith  with  a  martyr's  death.^^ 

With  these  extraordinary  events  may  also  be  men- 
ioned  the  frequent  occurrence  of  conversions  through 
wonderful  dreams,  as  Origen^'^  expressly  testifies.  Wit- 
nesses who  are  above  suspicion  leave  no  room  for 
doubt  that  the  miraculous  powers  of  the  Apostolic  age 
continued  to  operate  at  least  into  the  third  century .^^ 
Yet  the  importance  of  these  miracles  should  not  be 
too  highly  estimated.  It  is  true  the  Apologists  appeal 
to  them  as  a  testimony  to  the  truth  of  the  Gospel. 
Yet  there  are  no  indications  that  they  contributed,  in 
any  special  degree,  to  gaining  the  people  over  to  the 
faith.'^ 

Even  where  conversion  occurred  less  suddenly,  there 
was  the  most  definite  consciousness  of  the  change  ex- 
perienced, and  as  Christians  were  continually  reminded 
by  the  heathen  life  around  them  of  their  peculiar  call- 


170  CONDUCT  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  [book  i 

ing,  and  their  separation  from  this  present  evil  world, 
so  likewise  were  they  ever  sensible  of  their  obligation  to 
live  differently  from  the  heathen  and  to  bring  them- 
selves into  complete  subjection  to  Christianity.  This 
consciousness  was  expressed  in  customs  and  symbcls. 
The  Scriptures  were  read,  and  psalms  were  sung,  in 
their  homes.  Not  only  was  prayer  offered  before  every 
meal,  but  also  a  piece  of  the  consecrated  bread  which 
had  been  brought  from  the  church  was  eaten.  When- 
ever they  went  out  and  came  in,  when  they  put  on 
their  clothes  and  shoes,  when  they  bathed,  when  they 
lighted  the  lamps,  when  they  lay  down  and  when  they 
went  to  bed,  Christians  traced  on  their  foreheads  the 
sign  of  the  Cross,  and  this  was  not  then  a  dead  sign  but 
a  living  remembrance  of  the  Crucified  One,  of  baptism 
into  His  death,  and  of  the  obligations  assumed  in  bap- 
tism.23 

A  calm  and  sacred  earnestness  pervaded  the  entire 
life  of  Christians.  Knowing  that  Christ's  followers  are 
the  salt  of  the  earth  and  the  light  of  the  world,  they 
endeavored  to  fulfill  their  calling.  Their  eyes  turned 
to  the  future,  to  the  Lord  who  had  promised  to  come 
again,  and  in  expectation  of  His  speedy  appearance 
they  followed  with  zeal  after  that  holiness  without 
which  no  one  shall  stand  before  Him.  Their  life  was 
a  military  service,  under  Christ  their  Captain.  To  Him 
they  had  taken  in  baptism  the  soldit.  s  oath ;  and  for 
Him  they  had  renounced  the  devil,  and  all  his  works  and 
ways.  Their  standard  was  the  Cross,  their  watchword 
the  confession  of  faith,  their  weapon,  with  which  they 
stood  on  the  watch  night  and  day,  and  kept  station  and 
vigil,  was  prayer.2*  "  Let  us  never  walk  unarmed," 
«3diorts  Tertullian ;  "  by  day  let  us  remember  our  sta- 


III.]    EARNESTNESS  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE.       171 

tion,  by  night  our  watch.  Under  the  arms  of  prayei 
let  us  guard  the  standard  of  our  Commander ;  praying 
let  us  await  the  angel's  trump."  ^*  Fasts  also  were  fre- 
quently and  strictly  observed.  Fasting  was  regarded 
as  a  specially  important  means  of  proving  the  earnest- 
ness of  the  Christian  life,  and  of  confirming  one's  self 
in  it,  but  it  was  voluntary  not  prescribed.  The  fast  in 
Easter-week,  however,  early  became  obligatory.  Bap- 
tism, also,  was  prepared  for  by  fasting.^^ 

The  Christian  life  was  always  uniform.  "  Nowhere," 
says  TertuUian,  whom  we  have  just  quoted,  "is  the 
Christian  any  thing  but  a  Christian."  ^^  Not  merely 
at  church,  but  at  home  also,  in  their  vocations  and  on 
the  street,  Christians  desired  to  appear  as  Christians. 
They  guarded  with  the  greatest  care  against  any  con- 
nection with  Heathenism ;  they  avoided  with  the  utmost 
conscientiousness  every  thing  which  could  in  any  way 
be  construed  as  a  denial  of  their  faith.  Difficult  indeed 
must  have  been  the  task,  for  their  entire  life  was 
encompassed  by  a  net-work  of  heathen  customs  which 
a  Christian  must  every  moment  rend,  if  he  would 
remain  true  to  his  God.  Every  step  and  turn  necessi- 
tated a  confession  of  faith,  and  every  confession  in- 
volved danger.  The  symbols,  and  still  more  the  spirit 
of  Heathenism  were  everywhere.  If  a  Christian  went 
upon  the  street,  he  saw  the  images  of  the  gods  standing 
there,  and  met  processions  in  which  they  were  solemnly 
carried  about.  All  who  passed  by  paid  their  homage ; 
the  Christian  could  not  do  this.  If  he  entered  the 
Senate,  or  a  court  of  justice,  there  stood  an  altar  with 
incense  and  wine.  Custom  required  one  in  passing  to 
offer  a  libation,  and  strew  incense.  If  he  stepped  into  a 
tavern,  or  stall,  or  shop  to  make  a  purchase  or  leave  an 


172  CONDUCT  OP  THE  CHRISTIANa.  [book  i 

order,  he  always  found  an  altar  and  little  idols,  often  no 
longer  than  the  thumb.  Or  perhaps  he  was  invited  bj 
heathen  friends,  or  relatives,  to  a  family  festival.  If  he 
did  not  go,  he  gave  offence ;  if  he  went,  he  still  could 
not  but  incur  their  displeasure  by  declining  to  partici- 
pate in  the  festal  sacrifices  and  in  the  libations  whicli 
were  offered  from  beginning  to  end  of  the  meal,  e» 
pecially  to  the  Caesar-god,  and  by  refusing  to  partake  of 
this  or  that  article  of  food.  Frequently  on  such  occa- 
sions the  heathen  purposely  tempted  the  Christians,  by 
setting  before  them  food  prepared  with  blood,  from 
which,  according  to  Acts  xv.  29,  they  were  accustomed 
to  abstain.^^  In  such  circumstances  Christians  esteemed 
it  all  the  more  their  duty  openly  to  acknowledge  their 
faith.  Not  only  custom  and  usage,  but  language  also 
was  thoroughly  imbued  with  heathenism.  The  formu- 
las of  the  oath,  depositions,  testimony  before  a  tribu- 
nal, greetings  and  thanksgivings,  all  contained  remem- 
brances of  the  heathen  gods.  By  Hercules  I  this  and 
similar  exclamations  were  often  heard.  The  Christian 
must  refrain  from  these,  must  at  least  protest  by  silence. 
He  might  give  alms  to  a  beggar  on  the  street.  Natu- 
ally,  in  gratitude,  the  recipient  would  wish  for  his  bene- 
factor the  blessing  of  some  god.  Christians  who  were 
strict  in  their  deportment  believed  that  it  was  not  per- 
mitted them,  in  such  a  case,  to  remain  silent,  lest  it 
should  seem  as  if  they  accepted  the  blessing  of  an  idol ; 
they  considered  it  incumbent  upon  them  openly  to 
avow  that  their  charity  had  ^>een  given  for  the  sake  of 
the  living  God,  and  that  He  might  be  praised  therefor. 
If  a  Christian  had  occasion  to  borrow  money,  the  note 
which  he  must  sign  would  contain  an  oath  by  the 
heathen  gods.  He  could  only  refuse  to  execute  the 
note." 


CHIP,  m.]     DIFFICULT  POSITION  OF  CHRISTIANS.  173 

Many  special  relations  of  life  brought  the  Christiana 
into  still  more  difficult  situations.  A  master  would 
order  a  Christian  slave  to  do  something  wholly  unob- 
jectionable from  a  heathen  point  of  view,  but  sinful 
according  to  a  Christian  standard,  and  yet  the  slave 
was  completely  in  the  power  of  his  master,  who  co'ild 
have  him,  if  disobedient,  tortured  and  even  killed. 
How  should  the  Christian  wife,  who  had  a  heathen 
husband,  fulfill  her  Christian  obligations,  attend  divine 
worship,  visit  the  sick,  entertain  strangers,  distribute 
alms,  without  offending  her  husband  ?  How  could  the 
officer,  or  the  soldier,  perform  his  duties  without  deny- 
ing his  faith  ?  For  long  the  two  callings  were  deemed 
incompatible,  and  the  officer  preferred  to  resign  his 
position,  the  soldier  to  leave  the  ranks,  rather  than  to 
give  up  his  Christian  profession.^^  Those  who  could 
not  do  this  were  often  obliged  to  purchase  fidelity  to 
their  Lord  with  their  blood.  Many  a  person  also,  in 
order  to  become  and  to  remain  a  Christian  must  have 
relinquished  the  trade  or  the  employment  which  pro- 
cured him  a  livelihood.  All  who  had  obtained  a  sup- 
port by  the  heathen  cultus,  servants  and  laborers  in 
the  temples,  idol-makers,  sellers  of  incense,  as  well  as 
actors,  fencing-masters  in  th  j  gladiatorial  schools,  etc., 
were  admitted  by  the  chureA  to  baptism  only  on  con- 
dition that  they  should  abandon  their  occupations,  and 
whoever  as  a  Christian  engaged  in  such  employments 
was  excluded  from  fellowship.^^ 

Generally  the  churches  maintained  a  strict  discipline. 
The  morals  and  conduct  of  church  members  were  care 
fully  watched  over,  and  their  faults  earnestly  reproved. 
Those  who  fell  into  gross  sins,  the  so-called  mortal 
Bins,  —  idolatry,  blasphemy,  adultery,  impurity,  mup 


174  CONDUCT  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  r»OOK  » 

der,  fraud,  false  testimony,  —  were  separated  from  the 
church.  Only  after  a  long  probation,  and  after  evi- 
dence of  earnest  lepentance,  could  such  offenders  be 
re-admitted.  And  this  restoration,  in  accordance  with 
earlier  usage,  was  possible  but  once.  Whoever  fell 
away  a  second  time,  could  not  again  be  taken  back. 
Til  us  by  strict  discipline  the  church  endeavored  to  keep 
itself  free  from  impure  elements,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  offer  support  to  the  weak.  In  spite  of  such  effort  it 
was  not  wholly  free  from  corruption,  and  no  little 
weakness  comes  to  light.  The  primitive  church  was 
not  a  perfect  communion  of  saints,  but,  like  the  church 
of  all  other  times,  a  field  in  which  the  wheat  and  the 
tares  grew  together.  Yet,  notwithstanding  these  de- 
fects the  Christian  churches  stood  like  far-shining  lights 
in  the  midst  of  darkness,  and  proved  themselves  by 
their  life  and  conduct  new  powers  of  life,  powers  of 
the  world  to  come,  capable  of  renewing  from  within 
the  old  and  decaying  world. 

If  human  society  was  to  be  really  regenerated,  it 
was  necessary  that  the  foundations  should  be  laid 
anew.  These  lie  in  marriage,  and  in  the  family.  Mar- 
ried and  domestic  life  had  fallen  into  decay  in  the 
heathen  world.  Christianity  re-established  them  by 
restoring  freedom  of  marriage,  by  infusing  mto  it  a 
new  spirit,  by  showing  again  to  the  wife  her  divinely- 
appointed  position,  and  by  making  her  once  more  1  er 
husband's  helper  instead  of  his  slave. 

In  Antiquity  marriage,  like  every  thing  else,  cen- 
tred in  the  State.  Its  end  was  to  produce  citizens. 
The  individual,  therefore,  was  under  obligation  to  the 
State  to  marry,  and  the  State,  as  already  remarked, 
ieemed  itself  constrained  to  enforce  the  fulfillment  of 


.  m.]  MARRIAGE.  176 

this  duty  by  penalties.  Christianity  made  marriage 
free.  It  honored  the  liberty  of  the  individual,  and  left 
it  to  him  to  decide  whether  he  would  marry  or  not.  It 
honored  also  the  unmarried  state,  and  though  we  must 
concede  that,  in  this  respect,  false  and  unevangelical 
opinions  soon  found  acceptance,  and  an  exaggerated 
estimate  was  put  on  the  celibate  life  as  peculiarly  holy, 
a  notion  nowhere  sanctioned  in  Scripture,  yet  it  should 
not  be  overlooked  that  this  regard  for  celibacy  implies 
a  conquest  over  the  false  and  pagan  conception  of 
marriage. 

For  contempt  of  marriage  in  favor  of  celibacy  did 
not  prevail  until  long  afterwards.  On  the  contrary  mar- 
riage then  first  received  its  due  honor  by  being  recog- 
nized and  treated  as  a  divine  institution.  Matrimony 
was  contracted  with  the  privity  and  sanction  of  the 
church.  Intended  marriages  were  notified  to  the  bish- 
op, and  were  entered  upon  with  his  blessing.^*  Mar- 
riages which  were  concluded  without  the  co-operation 
of  the  church  were  not  regarded  by  it  as  true  marriages. 
A  higher  aim  was  now  set  than  Heathenism  had  ever 
known.  "  Marriage,"  says  Clement  of  Alexandria,'^  "  is 
a  school  of  virtue  for  those  who  are  thus  united,  de- 
signed to  educate  them  and  their  children  for  eternity. 
Every  home,  every  family  must  be  an  image  of  the 
church,  for,  says  our  Lord,  where  two  3^*=)  gathered  in 
my  name  there  am  I  in  their  midst."  A  much  closer 
and  stronger  tie  now  united  husband  and  wife,  the 
bond  of  a  common  faith.  We  find  in  Tertullian"  a 
eulogy  of  Christian  marriage  in  which  he  compares  a 
complete  union,  where  both  parties,  husband  and  wife, 
are  Christians,  with  a  mixed  marriage  where  a  Chris- 
tian wife  is  joined  to  a  pagan  husband.    From  his  noble 


176  CONDUOT  OF  THE  CHRISTIA3!fS.  [isOOK  i 

words  we  see  not  only  the  high  estimate  put  upon 
marriage,  but  also  how  it  was  elevated  by  being  imbued 
with  a  Christian  spirit.  "  How  shall  we  fully  describe 
that  marriage  which  the  church  cements,  the  oblation 
confirms,  and  the  benediction  seals ;  of  which  angels 
carry  back  the  tidings,  and  which  the  Father  regards 
as  ratified?  What  a  union  is  that  of  two  believers, 
who  have  one  hope,  one  rule  of  life,  and  one  service  ? 
They  are  brother  and  sister,  two  fellow-servants ;  there 
is  110  difference  of  spirit  or  of  flesh.  Nay,  they  are 
truly  two  in  one  flesh.  Where  the  flesh  is  one,  one  also 
is  the  spirit.  Together  they  pray,  together  they  pros- 
trate themselves,  together  they  fast ;  each  teaching  the 
other,  each  exhorting  the  other,  each  sustaining  the 
other.  They  go  together  to  the  church  of  God,  and 
to  the  Supper  of  the  Lord.  They  share  each  other's 
tribulations,  persecutions  and  refreshments.  Neither 
hides  aught  from  the  other,  neither  shuns  the  other, 
neither  is  a  burden  to  the  other.  The  sick  are  visit- 
ed freely,  the  poor  supported.  Alms  are  given  with* 
out  constraint,  sacrifices  attended  without  scruple,  the 
daily  devotions  held  without  hinderance;  there  is  no 
stealthy  signing  with  the  cross,  no  trembling  greeting, 
no  mute  benediction.  In  alternate  song  echo  psalms 
and  hymns;  they  vie  with  each  other  who  best  shall 
praise  their  God.  When  Christ  sees  and  hears  such 
things.  He  rejoices.  To  these  He  sends  His  own  peace. 
Where  two  are,  there  also  is  He.  Where  He  is,  there 
the  Evil  One  is  not."  In  a  house  thus  ordered,  chil- 
dren could  grow  up  in  the  fear  and  admonition  of  the 
Lord,  and  of  such  Christian  families  Clement  of  Alex- 
andria justlj-  says :  "  The  children  glory  in  their  mother, 
the  husband  in  his  wife,  and  she  in  them,  and  all  in 
God."" 


fHAP    m.J  THE  CHRISTIAN  WIFE.  177 

As  the  whole  life  of  the  people  was  founded  npou 
that  of  the  family,  so  this  in  turn  depended  upon  the 
position  held  by  the  wife.  It  is  true  that  in  marriage 
the  husband  is  the  head  according  to  divine  institution, 
yet  the  character  of  domestic  and  family  life  is  more 
determined  by  the  wife  than  by  the  husband.  For  this 
reason  no  sound  family  life  could  exist  in  the  pagan 
world,  because  the  wife  did  not  occupy  her  true  place. 
Among  the  Greeks,  she  was  the  slave  of  her  husband. 
Among  the  Romans,  she  was  more  highly  honored,  yet 
was  destitute  of  rights  apart  from  him.  Full  and 
perfect  worth  as  a  human  being  Antiquity  never  con- 
ceded to  woman.  Man  alone  possessed  this  dignity. 
Christianity  freed  woman  from  this  enslaved  and  un- 
protected state  by  making  her  the  equal  of  man  in  that 
which  is  supreme,  the  relation  to  Christ  and  the  king- 
dom of  God.  They  are  "heirs  together  of  the  grace 
of  life."  "The  husband  and  wife,"  so  Clement  of 
Alexandria  expresses  this  thought,  "  may  share  equally 
in  the  same  perfection."  ^  All  the  rest  follows  of  itself. 
Though  the  wife  remains,  as  respects  the  natural  life, 
subordinate  to  her  husband,  she  is  no  longer  his  ser- 
vant, but  his  helper.  "Thou  didst  not  disdain  that 
Thy  only  begotten  Son  should  be  born  of  a  woman," 
says  the  consecrating  prayer  for  deaconesses  in  the 
ancient  church.^^  This  fact,  the  birth  of  the  Son  of 
God  from  a  woman,  gave  to  woman  a  new  position. 
[t  is  true  that  as  God  created  her  to  serve,  so  this 
remained  her  calling  in  the  church.  She  should  not 
teach  publicly  in  the  church,  for  that  would  invest  her 
with  an  authority  which  is  not  her  lot.  But  since  all  is 
service  in  the  church,  even  the  office  of  teacher  and  that 
of  ruler,  there  is  implied  in  this  no  degradation  of 


178  CONDUCT  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS  [book  l 

woman,  but  only  the  assignment  to  hei  of  a  place 
corresponding  to  that  divinely  assigned  hei  in  creation. 
Women  emancipated  from  this  divine  order  were  a 
product  of  Paganism,  though  even  in  Rome,  in  the 
time  of  its  decline,  in  spite  of  the  low  estimate  put 
upon  their  sex,  women  who  caroused  with  men  through 
the  night  and  fought  in  gladiatorial  armor,  made  them- 
selves notorious.  But  as  mothers  who  trained  for  the 
church  its  standard-bearers,  as  deaconesses  in  the  ser- 
vice of  mercy,  as  martyrs  who  vied  with  men  for  the 
immortal  crown,  serving  everywhere,  praying,  toiling, 
enduring,  women  shared  in  the  great  conflict,  and  to 
them  surely,  in  no  small  degree,  was  the  victory  due. 

Esteeming  service  to  be  her  calling,  and  the  service  of 
Christ  as  her  highest  honor,  it  followed  of  course  that 
a  Christian  matron  no  longer  indulged  in  the  extrava- 
gant and  unnatural  luxury  of  dress  which  characterized 
the  high-born  women  of  the  time.  She  renounced  all 
such  display  when  she  became  a  Christian,  and  hence- 
forth appeared,  according  to  apostolic  injunction,  in 
neat  and  simple  attire,  gladly  allowing  it  to  be  said : 
"She  goes  about  in  poorer  garb  since  she  became  a 
Christian,"  ^^  conscious  that  she  was  really  much  richer, 
and  that  modesty,  purity,  simplicity  and  naturalness 
were  her  most  attractive  ornaments.  She  had  no  fur- 
ther occasion  for  her  former  splendor.  She  no  longer 
f]'equented  the  temples  and  the  theatre,  no 
longer  observed  the  pagan  festivals.  She  ruled  in 
the  quiet  of  home;  labored  there  with  her  hands, 
cared  for  her  husband  and  children,  and  cheerfully 
and  heartily  dispensed  the  rites  of  hospitality.^^  When 
she  went  out  she  visited  the  sick,  or  went  to  church  to 
bear  the  word  of  God  and  to  celebrate  the  Eucharist,  — 


CHAP,  m.]      SIMPLICITY  OP  CHRISTIAN    WOMEN.  ITS 

what  need  for  finery  there?  And  e;'en  if  she  called 
upon  her  heathen  friends,  or  accepted  an  invitation 
to  the  homes  of  heathen  relatives,  she  was  not  ashamed 
even  there  to  appear  with  entire  simplicity.  Going 
thus,  to  use  TertuUian's  words,  armed  with  her  own 
weapons,  she  showed  that  there  is  a  difference  between 
the  servants  of  God  and  the  servants  of  the  Devil, 
and  she  was  an  example  to  others  for  their  profiting, 
that  God,  according  to  the  word  of  the  Apostle,  might 
be  glorified  in  her  body.*® 

There  appeared  in  the  ancient  church  a  strong  oppo- 
sition to  the  feminine  luxury  which  had  then  reached 
so  unexampled  an  excess.  TertulKan  *^  vehemently  de- 
claims, and  not  he  alone  but  other  church  teachers  as 
well,  against  dyeing  the  hair,  and  all  artificial  head- 
gear I  "  The  Lord  has  said :  Which  of  you  can  make 
one  hair  white  or  black  ?  They  refute  God !  Be- 
hold! say  they,  instead  of  white  or  black  hair  we 
make  it  auburn  "  (then  the  fashionable  color)  "  so  that 
it  is  more  attractive.  Far  from  the  daughters  of  Wis- 
dom be  such  folly !  What  service  does  so  much  labor 
spent  in  arranging  the  hair  render  to  salvation  ?  Why 
is  no  rest  allowed  to  your  hair,  which  must  now  be 
bound,  now  loosed,  now  raised  up,  now  pressed  flat? 
Some  are  anxious  to  force  their  hair  into  curls,  others, 
with  seeming  yet  not  commendable  simplicity,  to  let  it 
fall  loDse  and  flying.  Beside  which  you  affix  I  know  not 
what  enormities  of  false  braids  of  hair,  which  now  like  a 
cap  or  helmet  cover  the  head,  now  are  massed  backward 
toward  the  neck.  I  am  very  much  mistaken  if  this  is 
not  contending  against  the  precepts  of  the  Lord.  He 
has  said  that  no  man  can  add  any  thing  to  his  stature. 
If  the  enormity  does  not  cause  yo  i  shame,  let  the 


J  80  CONBUCT  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  [book  i 

impurity,  lest  you  may  be  putting  on  a  holy  and  Chris- 
tian head  the  hair  which  has  been  taken  from  the  head 
of  some  one  else,  perhaps  of  an  unclean  person,  guilty 
perchance,  and  destined  to  hell.  Nay  rather,  banish 
from  your  free  head  all  this  slavery  of  ornamentation. 
In  that  day  of  Christian  exultation  I  shall  see  whether 
you  will  rise  with  your  white  and  red  and  yellow  pig- 
ments, and  in  all  that  parade  of  head-gear;  whether 
the  angels  will  carry  women  thus  tricked  out  to  meet 
Christ  in  the  air.  Keep  yourselves  now  from  those 
things  which  are  condemned.  To-day  let  God  see  you 
such  as  He  will  see  you  then." 

TertuUian  is  zealous  also,  against  the  use  of  pig- 
ments. It  is  a  sin,  he  says,  for  they  who  put  on  rouge 
desire  to  make  themselves  more  beautiful  than  God  has 
made  them,  and  thus  censure  the  Artificer  of  ,all  things. 
He  rejects  purple  garments,  for  if  God  had  wished  such 
to  be  worn.  He  would  have  created  sheep  with  purple 
wool.  Even  garlands  find  no  favor  with  Him.  If  God 
had  wished  for  garlands.  He  would  have  caused  not 
merely  flowers  but  garlands  to  grow.  This  sounds 
strange  to  us,  and  it  is  unquestionably  one-sided,  yet 
it  reveals  a  justifiable  reaction  against  the  unnatural- 
ness  of  the  luxury  of  that  day.  Tertullian  contends 
for  simplicity  and  naturalness,  in  opposition  to  unnat- 
uralness  and  artificiality.  "That  which  grows  is  the 
work  of  God,  that  which  is  artificial  is  the  Devil's 
work,"  is  a  proposition  which  he  is  never  weary  of 
maintaining.  Let  us  not  forget  all  that  among  the 
heathen  was  connected  with  these  arts  of  the  toilet, 
and  the  horrors  of  licentiousness  which  "^hey  served. 
A  severe  reaction  was  needed  in  order  to  restore  the 
simplicity  and  modesty  of  feminine  life. 


OHAP.  m.]  DEMANDS  OF  THE  TIMES.  181 

Lastly,  let  us  consider  the  strenuousness  of  the 
times,  and  their  demands  upon  a  Christian  wife.  They 
were  days  of  conflict,  little  suited  to  the  cultivation  of 
the  beautiful,  even  to  a  legitimate  extent.  It  was 
far  more  important  to  foster  energy  and  courage. 
"  Pleasures  must  be  discarded  whose  softness  may 
weaken  the  courage  of  faith.  I  know  not  whether 
the  wrist,  accustomed  to  a  bracelet,  will  endure  if  the 
hard  chain  makes  it  stiff.  I  know  not  whether  the  leg 
will  suffer  itself  to  be  fettered  in  the  gyve,  instead  of 
by  an  anklet.  I  fear  that  the  neck,  hung  with  pearls 
and  emeralds,  will  give  no  room  to  the  broadsword. 
Wherefore,  blessed  of  the  Lord,  let  us  meditate  on 
hardships  and  we  shall  not  feel  them ;  let  us  relinquish 
pleasant  things  and  we  shall  not  desire  them;  let  us 
stand  ready  to  endure  every  violence,  having  nothing 
which  we  may  fear  to  leave  behind.  The  days  of 
Christians  are  always,  and  now  more  than  ever,  not 
golden  but  iron.  The  robes  of  martyrs  are  preparing, 
they  are  held  up  by  angel  bearers.  Go  forth,  then, 
amply  supplied  with  the  cosmetics  and  ornaments  of 
prophets  and  apostles,  taking  your  dazzling  whiteness 
from  simplicity,  and  your  ruddy  hue  from  modesty; 
painting  your  eyes  with  bashfulness,  and  your  mouth 
with  silence ;  inserting  in  your  ears  the  words  of  God, 
and  fastening  on  your  necks  the  yoke  of  Christ.  Sub- 
mit your  head  to  your  husbands,  and  you  will  be  suffi- 
cisntly  adorned.  Busy  your  hands  with  spinning,  and 
keep  your  feet  at  home,  and  hand  and  foot  will  please 
more  than  if  arrayed  in  gold.  Clothe  yourselves  with 
the  silk  of  uprightness,  the  fine  linen  of  holiness,  the 
purple  of  modesty.  Thus  adorned  you  will  have  Gcd 
fc:  your  lover."  *^ 


182  CONDUCT  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  [book  1 

The  heathen  often  sneered  at  the  large  number  of 
women  in  the  Christian  churches.  They  ct  led  Chris- 
tianity in  contempt  a  religion  for  old  women  and 
children.  But  they  were  constrained  to  learn  what 
Christianity  made  of  these  women,  and  to  acknowledge, 
against  their  will,  the  difference  between  a  heathen  and 
a  Christian  woman.  In  the  one  case  a  passion  foi 
finery,  vanity,  coquetry  beyond  measure,  in  the  other 
^iimplicity  and  naturalness ;  there  immodesty  and  shame- 
lessness,  here  chastity  and  propriety ;  there  women  who 
divided  their  time  between  making  and  displaying  their 
toilet,  and  who  shone  at  the  theatre  and  the  circus,  at 
dinner-parties  and  festivals,  here  wives  who  dressed  to 
please  their  husbands,  mothers  who  lived  for  their  chil- 
dren ;  there  an  enervated  sex,  painted,  and  spoiled  by 
art,  here  heroines  who  paled  not  even  at  the  sight  of 
the  lions  in  the  amphitheatre,  and  calmly  bent  their 
necks  to  the  sword.  "  What  women  there  are  among 
the  Christians !  "  exclaimed  the  astonished  pagan  Liba- 
nius. 

To  children,  also,  the  Gospel  first  gave  their  rights. 
They,  too,  in  Antiquity  were  beyond  the  pale  of  the 
laws.  A  father  could  dispose  of  his  children  at  will. 
If  he  did  not  wish  to  rear  them,  he  could  abandon  or 
kill  them.  The  law  of  the  Twelve  Tables  expressly" 
awarded  to  him  this  right.  Plato  and  Aristotle  ap- 
proved of  parents'  abandoning  weak  and  sickly  cliil- 
dren,  whom  they  were  unable  to  support,  or  who  coiild 
not  be  of  use  to  the  State.  Whoever  picked  up  a  chi  ^ 
who  had  been  deserted  could  dispose  of  it,  and  treat  it 
as  a  slave.  The  father's  power  over  his  children  was 
limitless;  life  and  death  were  at  his  disposal.  Chris- 
tianity, on  the  contrary,  taught  parents  that  their  chil- 


CHAP,  m.]  CHILDREN.    FAMILY  TV  ORSHIP.  185 

dren  were  a  gift  from  God,  a  pledge  intrusted  to  them 
for  which  thej  were  responsible  to  Him.  It  spoke  not 
merely  of  the  duties  of  children,  but  also  of  the  duties 
of  parents,  and  since  it  invested  these,  as  representa- 
tives of  God,  with  something  of  His  majesty  and  honor, 
it  appointed  to  them  the  lofty  task  of  educating  their 
baptized  offspring  as  children  of  God,  and  for  His  king- 
dom. The  baptism  of  children  soon  became  customary, 
and  thus  they  shared  from  their  earliest  years  in  the 
blessings  of  Christianity.  The  exposition  of  children 
was  looked  upon  by  Christians  as  plainly  unlawful,  — 
it  was  regarded  and  treated  as  murder.  And  though 
paternal  authority  was  highly  esteemed,  there  could  no 
longer  be  any  claim  to  an  unconditional  right  over  chil- 
dren after  men  had  learned  to  look  upon  them  as  God's 
property. 

Every  Christian  home  now  became  a  temple  of  God, 
where  His  word  was  diligently  read,*^  and  prayer  was 
offered  with  fidelity  and  fervor.  "  If  thou  hast  a  wife, 
pray  with  her,"  we  read  in  one  of  the  canons  of  the 
Egyptian  Church,  "  let  not  marriage  be  a  hinderance  to 
prayer."  ^  The  singing  of  psalms  and  hymns  was  often 
heard.  The  day  was  opened  with  united  reading  of 
the  Scriptures,  and  prayer,  concluding  with  the  Halle- 
lujah. Then  all  the  members  of  the  family  gave  each 
other  the  kiss  of  peace,  and  went  to  theii  work.  No 
meal  was  taken  without  a  blessing.  Each  repast,  how- 
ever simple,  had  something  of  the  character  of  the  holy 
Supper,  the  Eucharist.'*^  The  day  was  closed  by  again 
joining  in  devotions.  Under  the  name  c'  "The  Candle 
Hymn,"  an  ancient  hymn  has  been  preserved*^  as  it 
was  heard  in  Christian  homes :  — 


184  CONDUCT  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  faooK  l 

"Joyful  Light  of  holy  Glory, 
Of  the  Father  everlasting,  Jesus  Christ  I 
Having  come  to  the  setting  of  the  sun, 
And  seeing  the  evening  light. 
We  praise  the  Father,  and  the  Son, 
And  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God. 
Thou  art  worthy  to  be  praised 
At  all  times,  with  holy  voices. 
Son  of  Grod,  who  hast  given  life ; 
Therefore  the  world  glorifieth  Thee." 

No  less  did  Christianity  transform  the  relation  be- 
iween  masters  and  servants.  It  gave  liberty  to  the 
jlave.  "The  grace  of  God  that  bringeth  salvation 
aath  appeared  to  all  men  "  —  before  this  announcement 
jlavery  could  not  stand.  Now  it  was  proclaimed : 
''  There  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  there  is  neither  bond 
lor  free,  there  is  neither  male  nor  female,  for  ye  are  all 
one  in  Christ  Jesus  "  (Gal.  iii.  28).  "  Christian  justice 
makes  all  equal  who  bear  the  name  of  man  "  is  the  ex- 
plicit statement  of  an  ancient  teacher  in  the  Church.*^ 
[t  is  the  Son  who  makes  all  free.  As  He  delivered  us 
from  sin  and  the  bondage  of  the  law,  so  from  Him  also 
has  come  freedom  for  all  the  spheres  of  life.  "  Where 
"ihe  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  liberty  "  (2  Cor.  iii. 
17).  While  the  heathen  valued  a  man  according  to  his 
outward  position,  the  Christian  did  not  take  this  into 
account,  a  man's  real  worth  was  independent  of  it. 
Whether  he  was  a  slave,  or  a  master,  was  merely  acci- 
dental. The  slave  might  be  in  truth,  that  is  inwardly, 
free,  and  the  master  might  be  in  reality,  that  is  in- 
wardly, a  slave.  There  is  only  one  real  slavery,  the 
bondage  of  sin,  and  only  one  true  liberty,  freedom  in 
Christ. 

For  this  reason  the  Christian  Church  did  not  in  the 


OHAp.  m.]  SLAVES.  185 

least  entertain  the  thought  of  immediate  emancipation. 
It  recognized  in  this  matter,  as  in  others,  the  existing 
laws,  and  taught  the  slave  to  respect  them  according  to 
the  will  of  God.  "Let  every  man  abide  in  the  same 
calling  wherein  he  was  called,"  is  the  rule  laid  down 
by  the  Apostle.  Indeed  spiritual  freedom  assumed 
such  supreme  importance  to  Christians,  that  they  often 
wholly  disregarded  outward  civil  liberty.  Tertullian, 
in  his  treatise  "  On  the  Crown,"  alluding  to  the  custom 
of  slaves'  wearing  chaplets  at  their  manumission,  ad- 
dresses a  Christian  as  follows:  "The  conferring  of 
secular  liberty  is  an  occasion  of  crowning.  But  you 
have  been  already  ransomed  by  Christ,  and  that  at  a 
great  price.  How  shall  the  world  set  free  the  servant 
of  another  ?  Though  it  seems  to  be  liberty,  it  will  be 
found  to  be  bondage.  All  things  in  the  world  are 
imaginary,  nothing  is  real.  For  even  then,  as  redeemed 
by  Christ,  you  were  free  from  man,  and  now,  although 
liberated  by  man,  you  are  Christ's  servant."  ^  Yet  the 
Church  did  not  leave  every  thing  as  it  was.  The  new 
principle  took  effect,  and  wrought  a  moral  transforma- 
tion in  the  relation  of  master  and  slave.  The  treat- 
ment of  slaves  by  their  Christian  masters,  and  the 
relation  of  Christian  slaves  to  their  masters,  underwent 
an  immediate  change.  They  looked  upon  each  other 
now  as  brethren,  as  Paul  writes  to  Philemon  of  the 
slave  Onesimus,  "  that  thou  shouldest  receive  him,  not 
now  as  a  servant,  but  above  a  servant,  a  brother  be- 
loved." As  members  of  the  church  there  was  no  differ- 
ence between  them.  They  came  to  the  same  house  of 
God,  adored  one  God,  acknowledged  one  Lori,  prayed 
and  sang  together,  ate  of  the  same  bread,  and  drank 
from  the  same  cup.    This  must  have  transformed  the 


186  CONDUCT  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  [book  l 

disposition  of  a  master  toward  his  slaves.  He  could 
not  possibly  continue  to  treat  as  a  thing  one  who  was 
his  brother  in  Christ.  The  Church,  it  is  true,  would 
not  receive  a  slave  without  a  certificate  of  good  conduct 
from  his  Christian  master,  but  when  this  condition  was 
complied  with  he  became  a  full  member  without  any  j 
limitations.  He  was  even  eligible  to  its  offices,  not  ex-  < 
oepting  that  of  bishop.  Not  infrequently  it  occurred 
that  a  slave  was  an  elder  in  the  same  church  of  which 
his  master  was  only  a  member.  . 

The  church  bestowed  labor  on  both  slaves  and  mas-    ' 
ters.     It  exhorted  the  slaves  to  obedience ;   they  were 
not  to  make  the  knowledge  that  their  masters  were 
their  brethren  a  pretext  for  disobedience,  but  only  a 
reason  for  more  faithful  service.     According  to  pagan 
conceptions  slaves  were  incapable   of  morality.     The 
church  trained  them  for  virtue,  and  not  unsuccessfully. 
There  were  many  slaves  who,  in   extremely  difficult 
circumstances,  attested  the  reality  of  their  Christian 
life  with  fidelity  and  great  endurance.     Even  among 
the  martyrs  there  was  an  unbroken  line  of  slaves.     The 
fairest  crown  fell  to  them,  as  well  as  to  the  free.     Mas- 
ters, on  the  other  hand,  were  exhorted  to  love  their    j 
slaves,  to  be  just  to  them  and  gentle.     "  Thou  shalt  not 
issue  orders  with  bitterness  to  thy  man-servant  nor  thy    , 
maid-servant,  who  hope  in  the  same  God,"  ^  is  the  in-    | 
junction  of  the  Epistle  of  Barnabas.     Harsh  treatment 
of  slaves  was  considered  a  sufficient  ground  for  excom-    i 
munication.^^     The  slave  should  not  be  urgent  for  man-    1 
umission.     "  Am  I  a  slave,  I  endure  servitude.     Am  I 
free,  I  do  not  make  a  boast  of  my  free  birth."     These 
words  of  Tatian'^'^  express  the   disposition  which  was 
rdtivated  in  the  slave.    J£  he  could  not  obtain  his  free- 


0H4P.  m.]  TREATMENT  OF  SLAVES.  181 

dom,  he  was  to  bear  his  lot  and  be  content,  knowing 
that  he  possessed  true  liberty.  The  demand  for  re- 
demption by  the  church  was  especially  prohibited.^ 
The  church  would  not  minister  to  the  merely  natural 
desires  of  the  slaves  for  liberty.  Yet  it  deemed  it  a 
praise-worthy  act  for  a  master  to  emancipate  a  slave  .^ 
It  did  not  prescribe  to  any  one  the  duty  of  enfranchise- 
ment ;  such  an  act  should  be  voluntary.  But  it  gladly 
recognized  emancipation  as  a  work  of  Christian  love, 
and  manumissions  often  occurred.  Many,  when  they 
became  Christians,  set  all  their  slaves  at  liberty  on 
the  day  of  their  baptism,  or  on  the  feast  days  of  the 
church,  especially  at  Easter,  that  they  might  in  this 
way  testify  their  gratitude  for  the  grace  which  they  had 
received.  It  is  narrated  of  a  rich  Roman,  in  the  time 
of  Trajan,  that  having  become  a  Christian  he  presented 
their  freedom,  at  an  Easter  festival,  to  all  his  slaves,  of 
whom  there  were  twelve  hundred  and  fifty .^  After  the 
third  century,  it  was  customary  to  perform  the  act  of 
manumission  in  the  church,  before  the  priest  and  the 
congregation.  The  master  led  his  slaves  by  the  hand 
to  the  altar ;  there  the  deed  of  emancipation  was  read 
aloud,  and  at  the  close  the  priest  pronounced  the  bene- 
diction. Thus  formal  expression  was  given  to  the 
thought  that  they  owed  to  the  church  their  freedom. 
This  appeared  to  be,  as  it  was,  the  protectress  and 
dispenser  of  liberty.  The  freedmen  were  truly  free. 
While  so  many  of  those  whom  heathen  vanity,  or  love 
of  gain,  had  liberated,  merely  exchanged  one  kind  of 
slavery  for  another,  and,  thrust  without  means  of  sup- 
port into  a  society  in  which  labor  had  no  honor,  and 
left  to  themselves  and  destitute  of  moral  ^tamina,  only 
swelled  the  proletariat^  those  who  were  ser  free  in  the 


188  CONDUCT  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  [bock  i 

Christian  community  had  a  wholly  different  position. 
Their  former  masters  esteemed  it  their  duty  to  help 
and  counsel  them  as  Christian  brethren,  and  thus  they 
did  not  find  themselves  isolated,  but  in  the  midst  of  a 
communion  which  instructed  them  in  the  right  use  of 
their  liberty,  and  trained  them  to  be  active  and  useful 
men. 

For  Christians  now  put  a  very  different  estimate 
upon  labor.  It  no  longer  seemed  to  them,  as  to  the 
heathen,  a  disgrace,  but  an  honor;  not  an  unworthy 
bondage,  but  something  commanded  by  God  for  alJ 
men.  Indeed  the  Lord  Himself  had  been  a  carpenter, 
and  the  son  of  a  carpenter.  The  Apostles,  too,  had 
been  laborers,  Peter  a  fisherman,  Paul  a  tent-maker. 
The  Fathers  often  emphasized  the  fact  that  manual 
laborers  had  a  better  knowledge  of  God  than  heathcE 
philosophers.^^  "You  will  find  artisans  among  us," 
says  Athenagoras,^^  "who,  if  they  cannot  with  words 
prove  the  benefit  of  our  doctrine,  yet  prove  it  by 
deeds."  The  circumstance  that  Christians  were  shut 
out  from  so  many  employments  —  e.g.  those  of  soldiers, 
public  officers,  assistants  at  services  in  the  temples  — 
by  which  the  heathen  gained  a  livelihood,  contributed 
to  increase  the  honor  which  they  gave  to  manual  labor. 
The  so-called  Apostolic  Constitutions  expressly  refer  to 
this  kind  of  labor,  and  exhort  all  church  members  to 
industry:  "For  the  Lord  our  God  hates  the  slothful 
For  no  one  of  those  who  worship  God  ought  to  be 
idle."  ^  The  Bishop  was  also  enjoined  to  be  solicitous 
to  procure  work  for  artisans  who  were  without  employ- 
ment.^^ The  greatest  sages  of  Antiquity,  Plato  and 
Aristotle,  declare  labor  degrading  to  a  freeman;  the 
Apostle  exhorts  that  every  one  labor  with  quietness, 


OBAP.  m.]  LABOB.  189 

and  eat  his  own  bread,  and  lays  down  categorically  tie 
principle :  He  who  does  not  work,  shall  not  eat.  From 
this  simple  proposition  has  grown  a  new  world  that  has 
wrought  greater  things  than  any  Plato  and  Aristotle 
ever  saw. 

The  correlate,  among  the  heathen,  to  contempt  of 
labor  was  the  passion  for  shows.  Bread  and  games! 
was  the  oft-heard  signal.  Men  wished  to  be  supported 
without  labor  by  the  State,  and  to  be  amused  with 
games  at  the  public  expense.  The  watchword  of  the 
Christians  was:  Pray  and  labor.  From  this  point  of 
view  we  understand  the  decision  with  which  the  ancient 
church  condemned  the  exhibitions  in  the  theatre,  the 
circus,  and  the  arena.  Labor  performed  "  in  quietness  " 
presents  a  picture  precisely  opposite  to  that  offered  by 
the  circus  and  the  amphitheatre.-  There  was  no  quiet- 
ness, but  passionate  excitement.  "  God  has  enjoined  on 
us,"  says  Tertullian,^^  "  to  deal  calmly  and  gently  with 
the  Holy  Spirit,  Whose  nature  is  tender  and  sensitive, 
and  not  to  disquiet  Him  with  rage,  or  anger,  or  grief. 
How  shall  this  be  made  to  accord  with  the  shows  ?  For 
there  is  no  show  without  vehement  agitation  of  mind." 
"In  the  circus,"  he  says,  "excitement  presides.  See 
the  people  coming  to  it,  already  tumultuous,  already 
passion-blind,  already  agitated  about  their  bets.  The 
praetor  is  too  slow  for  them ;  their  eyes  are  ever 
lolling  with  the  lots  in  his  urn.  Then  they  wait 
anxiously  for  the  signal,  there  is  one  shout  of  common 
madness.  He  has  thrown  it,  they  say,  and  announce  to 
each  other  what  was  seen  at  once  by  all.  I  have  evi- 
dence of  their  blindness,  they  do  not  see  what  is 
thrown.  They  think  it  a  cloth,  but  it  is  the  likeness  of 
the  devil  cast  headlong  from  on  high.     From  thence 


190  CONDUCT  OP  THE  CHRISTIANS.  [book  i. 

therefore  they  go  on  to  fury,  and  passions,  and  dissen- 
sions, and  whatever  is  unlawful  for  priests  of  peace. 
Then  there  are  curses  without  just  cause  of  hatred; 
there  are  cries  of  applause  with  nothing  to  merit  them." 
"  Will  one,"  he  asks  in  another  place,  "  at  that  time 
think  upon  God?  He  will  have,  I  suppose,  peace  in 
his  mind  while  contending  for  a  charioteer."  Besides, 
every  tiling  there  was  purposeless,  the  opposite  of  ear- 
nest work ;  vain  were  the  racings,  still  more  vain  the 
throwing  and  leaping.  It  was  profitless,  in  TertuUian's 
eyes,  to  spend  so  much  labor  in  training  the  body  to 
the  suppleness  of  a  serpent,  and  for  all  the  arts  of  the 
arena.  Still  more  decidedly  would  the  gladiatorial 
sports  be  condemned,  the  baiting  of  wild  animals,  the 
capital  punishments  in  the  amphitheatre.  There  "  with 
murder  they  comfort  themselves  over  death."  In  short, 
the  amphitheatre  was  the  temple  of  all  evil  spirits. 

All  such  shows  a  Christian  avoided.  He  had,  as 
Cyprian  represents,  other  and  better  spectacles.  He 
had  the  beauty  of  the  world  to  look  upon  and  admire, 
the  rising  of  the  sun,  the  expanse  of  seas,  the  earth, 
the  air,  and  all  their  tenants,  the  constant  succession  of 
sunshine  and  rain.  He  had  in  the  Scriptures  the  great 
deeds  of  God,  the  lofty  spectacle  of  the  conflict  be- 
tween Christ  and  the  devil,  the  devil  and  the  whole 
power  of  the  world  lying  prostrate  under  the  feet  of 
Christ.  "  This  is  an  exhibition  which  is  given  by 
neither  praetor  nor  consul,  but  by  Him  who  is  alona, 
and  before  all  things,  and  above  all  things,  and  of 
whom  are  all  things,  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesu9 
Christ." 


CHAP,  in.]  THE  TRUE  END  01'  LABOR.  19i 


IV.      BENEVOLENCE   OP  THE   CHRISTIANS. 

When  St.  Paul  exhorts  (Eph.  iv.  28);  "Let  him 
that  stole  steal  no  more,  but  rather  let  him  labor,  work- 
ing with  his  hands  the  thing  which  is  good,"  he  adds, 
"  that  he  may  have  to  give  to  him  that  needeth."  The 
true  end  of  labor  was  thus  for  the  first  time  pointed 
out.  It  is  not  a  mere  selfish  acquisition  of  one's  own 
livelihood,  still  less  the  obtainment  of  riches  and  enjoy- 
ment. On  the  contrary  we  are  to  labor  in  order  to 
serve  our  brethren,  and  to  find  the  noblest  reward  of 
toil  in  the  exercise  of  compassion.  The  primitive  Chris- 
tians adhered  to  this  principle.  Working  with  their 
hands  they  helped  their  brethren  with  the  products  of 
their  labor.  They,  the  poor,  in  this  sense  also,  made 
many  rich.  The  church  in  later  years  increased  in 
wealth  and  dispensed  more  alms,  its  institutions  for 
the  care  of  the  poor  became  more  magnificent,  but  at 
no  other  time  has  its  exercise  of  charity  been  relatively 
so  large,  and,  all  things  considered,  so  pure,  as  in  the 
period  of  conflict.  Richly  was  the  word  of  our  Lord 
fulfilled :  "  By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my 
disciples,  if  ye  have  love  one  to  another."  The  heathen 
recognized  this  sign.  With  amazement  they  gazed 
upon  this  new  strange  life  of  love,  and  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  the  victory  of  the  church  like  that  of 
her  Lord  was  a  victory  of  ministering  love. 

This  was  something  wholly  foreign  to  the  heathen. 
"  A  new  commandment  I  give  unto  you,"  thus  does  our 
Lord  introduce  the  commandment  of  love.  Pagan  an- 
tiquity was  thoroughly  egoistic.  Charity,  compassion- 
ate love,  was  no  virtue  of  the  ancient  world,  says 
Boeckh,  one  of  the  highest  authorities  respecting  it 


192  BENEVOLENCE  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.       [book  x 

Every  one  sought  Ms  own  interests  regardless  of  others, 
and  ignorant  of  any  life  but  the  present,  knew  no  other 
aim  than  happiness  which  in  its  essen^^e  was  only  en- 
joyment, whether  coarser  or  more  refined.  Self  was 
tlie  centre  around  which  every  thing  revolved.  A  man 
of  the  ancient  world  despised  whatever  he  drew  into 
his  service,  and  hated  every  thing  which  opposed  him. 
This  egoism  was  limited  only  by  the  egoism  of  the  State. 
The  individual,  in  order  to  be  happy,  needed  the  State. 
It  was  also  essential  to  his  happiness  that  he  should  live 
in  a  well-ordered  State.  The  individual  was  of  account 
only  as  a  member  of  the  whole  body,  as  a  citizen. 
Man  was  completely  a  fwoy  TtohruiSv,  a  political  being,  all 
virtues  were  only  political.  On  the  monument  of  -^s- 
chylus  was  inscribed  merely  that  he  had  shared  in  the 
fight  at  Marathon,  not  a  word  about  his  having  been  a 
great  poet.  The  State  itself,  moreover,  was  built  upon 
thoroughly  selfish  foundations.  Whoever  was  not  a 
citizen  of  the  State,  was  in  reality  not  a  man ;  he  was 
a  barbarian,  against  whom  every  thing  was  lawful.  No 
bond  united  nations ;  each  had  before  it  an  open  course 
for  its  selfishness.  It  had  the  right  to  subject  to  itself 
other  nations  and  to  make  them  its  slaves.  There  were 
no  duties  to  the  conquered.  Justice  to  the  weak,  com- 
passion to  the  oppressed  was  unknown  to  Antiquity. 

We  are  actually  startled  when  we  contemplate  this 
consistent  and  thorough-going  egoism.  "  A  man  is  a 
wolf  to  a  man  whom  he  does  not  know,"  says  Plautus," 
and  the  whole  life  of  Antiquity  is  a  proof  of  this. 
The  views  even  of  Plato,  the  noblest  of  sages,  respect- 
ing the  State,  were  thoroughly  egoistic.  All  beggars 
must  be  driven  out.  No  one  shall  take  an  interest  in 
the  poor,  when  they  are  sick.    If  the  constitution  of  a 


(MAT.  in.]     THE  NEW  COMMANDMENT  OF  LOVE.  198 

laboring  man  cannot  withstand  sickness,  the  ph78icia^ 
may  abandon  him  without  scruple,  he  is  good  foi 
nothing  except  to  be  experimented  on.  "  Can  you  con 
descend  so  far  that  the  poor  do  not  disgust  you  ?  "  asks 
Quinctilian.  The  aid  bestowed  —  this  was  the  thought 
—  is  of  no  help  to  the  poor  (i.e.,  it  does  not  make  them 
rich,  the  only  happiness) ;  it  simply  prolongs  their 
wretchedness.  "  He  deserves  ill  of  a  beggar,"  we  read 
in  Plautus,®^  "who  gives  him  food  and  drink.  For 
that  which  is  given  is  thrown  away,  and  the  life  of  the 
beggar  is  protracted  to  his  misery."  We  need  at  most 
do  good  to  those  who  have  done  good  to  us ;  those  who 
injure  us  we  may  hate,  indeed  it  is  our  duty  to  hate 
them.  According  to  Aristotle,  anger  and  revenge  are 
lawful  passions.  Without  them  men  would  lack  power- 
ful incentives  to  good.  Even  Cicero's  ideal  rises  no 
higher.  "The  good  man  is  to  perform  even  to  a 
stranger  all  the  service  that  he  can,  and  to  harm  no 
one  even  when  provoked  by  injustice ;  but  the  helping 
whom  he  can  is  to  be  limited  by  this,  that  he  shall  not 
himself  suffer  injury  thereby."*^  Of  self-denial,  of  a 
love  which  gives  more  than  it  can  deprive  itself  of 
without  harm,  of  love  even  to  one's  enemies,  Cicero  has 
as  little  a  presentiment  as  the  rest  of  Antiquity.  It 
discoursed  indeed  gladly  a.  id  much  of  magnanimity,  of 
generosity,  of  hospitality,  but  behind  all  these  virtues 
there  was  still  only  egoism.  Magnanimity  and  the 
much -praised  mercy  were  at  bottom  only  aristocratic 
pride,  which  looked  down  with  contempt  upon  others, 
and  seemed  to  itself  far  too  great  to  be  injured  by 
them.  Liberality  was  exercised  toward  friends  and 
fellow-citizens,  not  toward  all  men ;  it  was  practised 
because  it  created  fame  and  esteem,  and  was  useful  to 


194  BENEVOLENCE  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.        [b^k  i 

the  State.  Hospitality  was  not  a  common  virtue ;  it  be- 
longed exclusively  to  the  rich,  who  entertained  each 
other  with  careful  regard  to  rank  and  position.  We 
need  only  compare  it  with  Christian  hospitality  in  the 
earliest  churches,  where  the  poor  man  was  as  welcome 
as  the  rich,  where  the  feet  of  all  the  saints  were  washed, 
and  its  splendor  fades  away.  Even  when  Seneca  speaks, 
AS  he  often  does,  of  benevolence,  the  egoism  shines 
through.  One  must  give  without  any  prompting  of 
the  heart,  with  a  perfectly  tranquil  spirit.  Compassion 
is  at  bottom  only  weakness." 

Thus  the  ancient  world  had  no  knowledge  of  true 
benevolence.  To  be  sure,  as  we  have  seen,  it  was  not 
without  public  spirit,  nor  did  it  lack  gifts  and  bequests 
for  purposes  of  public  utility.  There  was  a  distribu- 
tion of  corn;  and  not  merely  in  Rome,  but  in  the 
provinces  as  well,  care  was  taken,  and  on  the  largest 
scale,  that  the  people  should  have  their  gratifications 
and  sports.  But  all  this  expenditure  bore  a  different 
character  from  Christian  benevolence.  Love  to  man 
was  not  the  impelling  motive.  It  was  an  offering 
brought  to  vanity,  to  avarice,  or  to  policy;  it  was  a 
ransom  which  wealth  paid  to  poverty  in  order  not  to 
be  disturbed  by  it.  We  seek  in  vain  for  true  regard 
for  penury,  and  heai-t-felt  compassion.  The  statesman, 
or  the  Emperor,  who  ordered  the  means  of  life  to  be 
distributed,  acted  from  no  such  considerations,  and  the 
rich  Roman  who  caused  the  sportula  to  be  given  to  his 
clients  had  no  genuine  feeling  of  sympathy  for  them. 
They  promoted  the  splendor  of  his  house,  and  were 
paid  for  it.  Consequently  the  extravagantly  rich  pres- 
ents which  were  made  brought  no  blessing.  They  de- 
graded both  those  who  gave,  and  those  who  received 


CHAT.  m.J     THE  NEW  COMMANDMENT  OF  LOVE.  195 

them.    As  love  was  wanting  on  the  one  side,  so  waa 
gratitude  on  the  other. 

This  judgment  will  not  be  changed  by  the  fact  that 
individual  acts  of  charity  to  the  poor  and  needy  oc- 
curred in  the  pagan  world.  We  ought  not  to  imagine 
that  the  natural  feeling  of  compassion  was  wholly  want- 
ing. When,  during  the  reign  of  Tiberius,  forty-six 
thousand  persons  were  either  killed  or  wounded  by  the 
fall  of  an  amphitheatre  at  Fidenza,  the  Roman  aristoc- 
racy  sent  physicians,  medicines  and  food  to  the  suffer- 
ers, and  even  received  some  of  them  into  their  own 
houses.^  Titus  exhibited  a  noble  activity  in  aiding  the 
unfortunate  victims  of  the  great  calamities  which  befell 
his  reign,  the  fearful  outbreak  of  Vesuvius  which  de- 
stroyed Herculaneum  and  Pompeii,  the  fire  at  Rome 
and  the  pestilence  which  raged  there.  It  need  scarcely 
be  mentioned,  also,  that  many  gifts  were  made  to 
beggars  who  sat  in  the  streets  and  especially  before  the 
temples.  WttS.t,  however,  was  wanting  was  a  regulated 
and  systematic  benevolence.  This  did  not  exist  where 
we  should  at  first  expect  to  meet  with  it,  in  the  associa- 
tions. Natural  as  it  would  seem  to  have  been  for  the 
burial-clubs,  whose  object  was  to  secure  for  their  mem- 
bers a  respectable  interment  with  the  appropriate  reli- 
gious rites,  or  for  the  confraternities  of  artisans,  and 
many  similar  societies,  to  furnish  assistance  to  their 
needy  members,  as  was  done  by  the  guilds  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  we  find  in  fact  little  or  no  such  provision.  Even 
the  many  bequests  to  the  members  of  such  clubs  were 
not  given  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  and  needy  in  them, 
but  on  the  contrary  were  gifts  in  which  the  officers  of 
the  socieliy,  or  even  all  its  members,  shared  in  order 
that  they  might  honor  the  memory  of  the  donor.    A 


196  BENEVOLENCE  OP  THE  CHRISTIANS.        [wow.  a 

real  care  of  the  poor,  as  now  understood,  was  unknown 
Hospitals  existed  only  for  soldiers,  gladiators  and  slaves. 
The  manual  laborer  who  was  without  means,  the  poor 
man  who  was  not  a  slave,  found  no  place  of  refuge. 
Without  consolation,  without  hope  for  the  life  to  como, 
he  was  also  without  material  help  in  sickness.  Espe- 
cially in  time  of  epidemics  did  the  ancient  egoism 
appear  without  disguise.  Men  feared  death,  and  took 
no  interest  in  their  own  sick,  but  drove  them  out  of  the 
ho  ise,  and  left  them  to  their  fate.  The  ancient  world 
was  a  world  without  love.  There  was  much  that  was 
admirable  in  it;  it  produced  great  men  and  heroes, 
but  this  bond  of  perfectness  was  wanting.  Whence 
should  love  have  come?  Religion  taught  none,  and 
awakened  none.  It  taught  love  to  one's  native  coun- 
try, obedience  to  the  laws,  bravery  in  war,  sacrifice  for 
the  greatness  and  honor  of  the  State  —  but  not  philan- 
thropy. The  ancient  man  was  the  natural  man  in  his 
richest  development.  But  the  natural  man  is  an  ego- 
ist, and  remains  such  until  love  from  above  transforms 
him. 

It  has  done  this.  The  life  of  the  Christian  Church 
is  the  actual  proof.  It  was  a  life  of  love.  Nothing 
more  astonished  the  heathen,  nothing  was  more  incom- 
prehensible to  them.  "  Behold,"  they  exclaimed,  "  how 
they  love  one  another."^  Among  themselves  Chris- 
tians called  each  other  brethren,  and  this  fraternal 
name  was  no  mere  word.  They  lived  as  brothers. 
The  kiss  with  which  they  greeted  each  other  at  the 
celebration  of  the  Holy  Supper,  was  no  empty  form; 
the  church  was  in  reality  one  family,  all  its  members 
children  of  one  Heavenly  Father.  Each  served  the 
other,  each  prayed  for  all  the  rest.     They  had  all 


CHAP,  m.]  j^GOISM.    CHRISTIAN  LC  VB.  197 

tilings  in  common.  Even  the  stranger  who  came  from 
far,  if  he  but  brought  a  letter  of  recommendation  from 
his  church  which  certified  him  as  a  Christian,  was 
received  and  treated  as  a  brother.  "They  love  each 
other  without  knowing  each  other ! "  says  a  pagan  in 
astonishment.  This  was  indeed  the  most  direct  antith- 
esis to  the  heathen  saying :  "  Man  is  a  wolf  to  a  man 
whom  he  does  not  know."  This  fraternal  love  ex- 
panded to  a  universal  love  of  man.  The  church,  born 
of  love,  and  living  in  love,  was  the  appropriate  organ 
for  the  practice  of  love.  It  interested  itself  first  in 
those  of  its  members  who  needed  help  in  any  way,  then 
it  went  beyond  them  to  embrace  in  its  love  those  who 
stood  without.  For  these  were  to  be  won  for  the 
church.  Love  worked  in  a  missionary  way.  It  ex- 
cluded none,  as  the  grace  which  kindled  it  excluded 
no  one,  not  even  enemies  and  persecutors. 

Without  doubt  individual  members  of  the  churches 
performed  by  themselves  many  works  of  benevolence. 
Christians  made  earnest  with  the  word  of  our  Lord: 
"Give  to  him  that  asketh  thee,  and  from  him  that 
would  borrow  of  thee  turn  not  thou  away."  One  of 
the  earliest  of  the  Fathers,  Barnabas,  exhorts :  "  Thou 
shalt  not  hesitate  to  give,  nor  murmur  when  thou 
givest."  ^  "  Why  do  you  select  persons  ?  "  says  Lactan- 
tius.  "  He  is  to  be  esteemed  by  you  as  a  man,  whoever 
implores  you,  because  he  considers  you  a  man."^  Ter- 
fcullian  shows  us  the  obstacles  which  a  Christian  woman, 
living  with  a  pagan  husband,  had  to  encounter  in  her 
acts  of  benevolence.  "Who,"  he  asks,  "would  allow 
his  wife,  for  the  sake  of  visiting  the  brethren,  to  go 
round  from  street  to  street  to  other  men's,  and  indeed 
to  all  the  poorer  cottages?    Who  will  suffer  her  to 


198  BENEVOLENCE  OP  THE  CHRISTIANS.       [book  i 

creep  into  a  prison  to  kiss  the  chains  of  a  martyr?  If 
a  stranger  brother  arrives,  what  hospitality  for  him  in 
an  alien's  home  ?  If  bounty  is  to  be  distributed  to  any, 
the  granary,  the  storehouses  are  closed  against  her."  *■ 
Assuredly,  this  manifold  and  rich  benevolence  of  the 
Christian  woman  was  not  exercised  merely  by  direc- 
tion of  the  church.  It  was  expressly  enunciated  that 
the  official  benevolence  of  the  deaconess  should  not 
exclude  the  private  charity  of  the  woman.  Every 
woman  should  be  in  this  respect  a  deaconess.  "If 
any  one  of  you  would  do  good  without  being  a  presby- 
teress  or  deaconess,  do  it  according  to  your  inclination, 
for  such  deeds  are  the  most  precious  treasures  of  the 
Lord."  ^*  That  alms  were  also  distributed  in  the  freest 
way  upon  the  streets  is  evident  from  a  remark  of 
Tertullian's,  upbraiding  the  heathen :  "  our  compassion 
gives  more  in  the  streets  than  your  religion  in  the 
temples."  ''^ 

Such  personal  charity  withdraws  itself  from  observa- 
tion. The  Lord  alone  knows  what  was  then  done  by 
individuals,  history  has  not  preserved  it.  In  her  record 
appears  only  the  charily  practised  by  the  church,  and 
this,  all  things  considered,  is  of  incomparably  greater 
importance.  Precisely  here  is  to  be  found  what  was 
new,  what  was  higher — the  existence  of  a  communion 
whose  vocation  was  to  exercise  compassici.  From  the 
beginning,  from  the  days  of  the  church  of  Jerusalem, 
the  practice  of  charity  was  as  necessary  an  activity  of; 
churoh  life  as  the  preaching  of  the  Word  and  the  ad« 
ministration  of  the  sacraments ;  and  for  the  one  as  well 
as  for  the  others  the  church  provided  organs  and  ordi- 
nances. The  means  for  its  charities  flowed  to  it  from 
the  free-will  offerings  of  its  members.     The  principle  of 


CHAP,  in.]     PRrVATB  AND  ORGANIZED  CHARITY.  199 

entire  voluntariness,  which  the  Apostle  (2  Cor.  ix.  7) 
had  already  emphasized,  was  most  rigidly  adhered  to. 
"Such  as  are  prosperous  and  willing,"  says  Justin, 
"  give  what  they  will,  each  according  to  his  choice."  ^ 
"Each  of  us,"  says  TertuUian,  "deposits  a  small  gift 
when  he  likes,  but  only  if  it  be  his  pleasure,  and  only 
if  he  be  able,  for  no  one  is  under  compulsion."  "^  And 
IrensBus  rightly  sees  in  this  freedom  the  higher  position 
of  the  New  Testament.  "  There  were,"  he  says,  "  obla- 
tions among  the  Jewish  people ;  there  are  such  in  the 
church :  but  with  this  difference,  that  there  they  were 
offered  by  slaves,  here  by  freemen.  The  Jews  were 
constrained  to  a  regular  payment  of  tithes ;  Christians, 
who  have  received  liberty,  assign  all  their  possessions 
to  the  Lord,  bestowing  freely  ntt  the  lesser  portions  of 
their  property,  since  they  have  the  hope  of  greater 
things."*^*  S«  strictly  was  this  principle  carried  out 
that,  when  the  Gntstic  Marcion  separated  from  the 
church,  the  tw4  hundred  thousand  sesterces  which  he 
had  given  at  his  baptism  were  returned  to  him.*^^  When 
the  children  of  a  man  who  had  bequeathed  to  the 
church  in  his  will  a  certain  sum,  refused  to  pay  it, 
Cyprian,  though  he  reminded  them  of  their  duty  to 
fulfil  the  purpose  of  their  father,  at  the  same  time 
declared,  as  though  it  were  a  matter  of  course,  that 
they  were  at  perfect  liberty  to  deliver  the  money  or 
not.  As  the  church  would  have  no  forced  gifts,  so  it 
would  have  none  from  persons  who  did  not  in  spirit 
belong  to  her,  who  did  not  give  from  love  or  froiK 
property  rightly  acquired.  The  Apostolic  Constitu- 
tions contain  upon  this  subject  very  definite  directions."'* 
The  usual  form  of  giving  was  that  of  the  offerings., 
or  oblations,  at  the  Lord's  Supper.     The  communicanta 


200  BBNEVOLENCE  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.        Lbook  i 

brought  gifts,  chiefly  natural  products.  From  these 
was  taken  what  was  necessary  for  the  bread  and  wine 
of  communion,  and  the  remainder  went  to  the  support 
of  the  clergy  and  the  poor.  The  names  of  the  ofi'erers 
were  inscribed  on  tablets,  the  so-called  diptychs,  and 
were  mentioned  in  the  prayer.  For  deceased  persons 
their  relatives  brought  gifts  on  the  anniversary  of 
their  death,  a  beautiful  custom  which  vividly  exhibited 
the  connection  between  the  church  above  and  the 
church  below.""  Even  those  who  had  fallen  asleep  still 
continued,  as  it  were,  to  serve  the  church.  Giving  was 
practised  also  in  connection  with  special  occasions,  joy- 
inil  occurrences,  the  day  of  christening.  Cyprian  sold 
his  gardens,  and  made  a  present  of  the  proceeds  on  the 
day  of  Ms  baptism.*^^  Reside  this  tliere  stood  in  the 
place  of  meeting  a  box  for  the  poor  (called  -by  Tertul- 
lian  arca^  by  Cyprian  corban),  in  which  was  placed 
every  week  a  free-will  offering.  This  was  evidently  an 
Jjnitation  of  the  custom  which  had  grown  up  in  the 
clubs,  and  was  legally  established.  Every  member  paid 
monthly  a  regular  tax.  The  Christians  did  likewise, 
only  in  their  case  the  contribution  was  voluntary,  and 
was  not  expended,  as  frequently  by  the  associations, 
in  feasting,  but  rather  in  providing  for  the  poor.^ 
Were  larger  means  needed,  a  general  collection  was 
taken  up,  to  which  every  one  contributed  from  the 
avails  of  his  labor.  Poor  persons,  who  had  nothing, 
fast€d  in  order  to  give  what  they  saved.  Sometimes  a 
general  fast  was  appointed  in  the  church,  and  the  pro- 
ceeds expended  for  benevolent  purposes.^  "  Blessed," 
Bays  Origeri;  "  is  he  who  fasts  to  feed  a  poor  person,"  ** 
and,  indeed,  no  more  beautiful  way  of  giving  alms  cai 
be  imagined. 


CHAP,  m.]  OFFERINGS  AND  COLLECTIONS.  201 

What  the  church  received  it  immediately  expended 
Nothing  was  converted  into  capital.  Present  needs 
were  great  enough,  and  care  for  the  future  could  be 
trustfuKy  committed  to  love.  The  necessities  of  the 
times,  also,  compelled  such  a  course.  In  the  midst  oi 
the  persecutions  church  property  was  insecure.  The 
best  mode  of  preserving  it  was  to  give  it  away.  When 
the  persecution  under  Decius  broke  out,  Cyprian  di- 
vided the  entire  sum  which  had  been  collected  for  the 
poor  among  the  presbyters  and  deacons  for  distribution. 
When,  afterwards,  there  was  need,  he  directed  that  the 
deficit  should  be  met  from  his  private  property.^  When 
Bishop  Sixtus  II.  was  taken  prisoner,  his  deacon,  Lau- 
rentius,  assembled  the  poor  of  the  church,  and  distrib- 
uted the  whole  of  the  church  property  among  them. 
He  even  sold  the  holy  vessels  in  order  to  give  the 
proceeds  to  the  poor.^ 

The  Bishop  superintended  the  care  of  the  poor,** 
assisted  by  the  deacons  and  deaconesses.  The  names 
of  those  who  were  to  be  regularly  supported  were  on- 
rolled  in  a  register,  after  careful  examination  into  their 
circumstances.  When  this  had  been  done,  they  received 
aid.^  To  this  class  belonged  those  who  could  no 
longer  earn  a  livelihood,  or  who  by  joining  the  churct 
had  lost  their  means  of  support  because  they  had  fol- 
lowed a  trade  or  business  which  the  church  did  not 
allow.^  Yet  it  was  strictly  maintained  that  every  one 
should  labor  to  the  extent  of  his  ability.  To  those  who 
had  been  obliged  to  relinquish  their  business,  some 
other  occupation  was  assigned,  whenever  possible,  and 
they  were  not  permitted  to  decline  this,  even  if  it  was 
inferior  to  their  former  occupation.  If  they  were  un- 
willing to  work,  they  received  no  aid.     For  conversion 


202  BENEVOLENCE  OP  THE  CHRISTIANS.       [book  i. 

to  the  church  was  not  to  be  made  by  idlers  a  source 
of  worldly  advantage. 

A  special  class  of  beneficiaries  consistea  of  widows," 
for  whose  maintenance  the  Apostle  gives  particular 
directions.  If  their  life  was  passed  in  reputable  widow- 
hood, they  were  highly  honored  in  the  church,  and  were 
cared  for  during  life.  In  return  they  served  the  church, 
particularly  in  the  education  of  children.  Destitute 
orphans  ^  were  reared  by  widows  or  deaconesses,  under 
the  supervision  of  the  bishop.  The  boys  learned  a  trade, 
and  when  grown  up  received  the  tools  necessary  for  its 
prosecution.  The  girls,  unless  they  joined  the  number 
of  those  who  remained  unmarried,  the  deaconesses  for 
instance,  were  married  each  to  some  Christian  brother. 
Often  children  who  had  been  abandoned  by  the  hea- 
then,^—  and  the  number  of  such  was  large,  —  were 
received  and  given  a  Christian  education  together  with 
the  orphans.  Even  slaves^  were  also  accepted,  their 
freedom  purchased  with  the  church  funds,  and  help 
afforded  them  to  earn  a  living.  Or,  where  captives  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  barbarians,  a  ransom  was 
paid  for  their  liberation.  Those  who  had  been  impris- 
oned on  account  of  their  faith  needed  special  care. 
They  were  visited  in  their  prisons,  and  provided  for  so 
far  as  possible.  Cyprian,  in  his  letters  written  while  in 
exile,  is  unwearied  in  commending  them  again  and 
again  to  the  watchful  attention  of  the  deacons.®^ 

This  benevolence  extended  beyond  the  bounds  of  the 
particular  church.  One  church  helped  another.^  Thus, 
as  early  as  the  Apostles'  day,  the  Gentile  churches  aided 
the  impoverished  church  of  Jerusalem.  So  the  church 
at  Rome,  under  Soter  (A.D.  150),  sent  lich  gifts  into 
the  provinces  in  order  to  alleviate  there  the  misery  oi 


CHAP,  m.]  SCOPE  OP  THIS  BENEVOIJJNCB.  203 

a  famine.^  At  a  time  when  the  unity  of  the  church 
was  not  manifested  in  outward  organic  forms,  the 
church  was  held  and  bound  together  bj  its  one  faith 
and  its  one  love.  An  active  benevolence  extended  its» 
net  over  the  whole  broad  empire,  and  wherever  a  Chris- 
tian went,  even  to  the  borders  of  barbarous  tribes, 
and  beyond  these,  too,  he  knew  that  he  was  near  to 
brethren  who  were  ready  at  any  moment  to  minister  to 
to  his  need. 

The  means  that  were  available  for  this  care  of  the 
poor  must  have  been  very  considerable ;  and  when  we 
consider  that  the  churches  in  the  first  centuries  were  re- 
cruited chiefly  from  the  lower  classes,  it  seems  the  more 
remarkable  that  such  resources  could  have  been  accu- 
mulated. From  the  earliest  age,  it  is  true,  we  have 
no  information  as  to  the  scope  of  the  benevolence  of 
individual  churches,  but  judging  by  what  we  know 
of  a  later  time,  it  was,  even  in  respect  to  merely  pe- 
cuniary gifts,  very  large.  Cjprian  easily  collected  in 
his  church  five  thousand  dollars,  in  order  to  help  the 
Numidian  bishop  in  ransoming  prisoners.^  Somewhat 
later,  in  the  time  of  the  Decian  persecution,  the  Roman 
church  supported  fifteen  hundred  poor  persons,  widows, 
and  children.^*^  Still  later,  the  church  in  Antioch, 
numbering,  perhaps,  one  hundred  thousand  members, 
had  three  thousand  beneficiaries.^  Still  more  worthy 
of  admiration  is  the  spirit  in  which  this  labor  of  love 
was  prosecuted.  Among  the  heathen  the  poor,  the 
weak,  the  oppressed  had  been  despised.  The  principle 
was  established,  that  a  man  is  to  be  valued  according  to 
his  possessions.  In  the  church  it  was  said :  Blessed  are 
the  poor,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  In  a 
certain  sense  erery  one  must  become  poor  in  ordei 


204  BENEVOLENCE  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.       [boob^  \. 

to  gain  this  kingdom.  External  wealth  and  outward 
poverty,  are  merely  accidental.  The  godly  poor  are 
in  truth  rich;  the  godless  rich  in  reality  poor.  "It 
is  not  the  census,"  says  one  of  the  fathers,  "that 
makes  rich,  but  the  soul."  ^  Conscious  of  having  be- 
come rich  through  the  lowly  Jesus,  the  church  looked 
upon  the  poor  as  her  treasures.  In  them  she  served  the 
Lord.  "When,  after  the  martyrdom  of  Bishop  Sixtus, 
his  deacon  was  required  to  point  out  and  surrender  the 
treasures  of  the  church,  he  called  all  its  poor  together 
and  showed  them  to  the  prefect  of  the  city,  with  the 
words :  "  These  are  the  treasures  of  the  church."  ^  A 
church  which  has  such  riches  must  conquer.  In  its 
benevolence  it  has  the  means  of  the  purest  propaganda 

means  which  in  the  end  must  win  even  its  opponents. 

This  benevolence  made  a  deeper  impression  on  the 
heathen  because  they  were  not  exclude4  by  the  Chris- 
tians from  their  love.  "Our  religion,"  says  Justin,^ 
"requires  us  to  love  not  only  our  own,  but  also 
strangers  and  even  those  who  hate  us."  "All  men," 
says  Tertullian,^^  "love  their  friends.  Christians  alone 
love  their  enemies."  This  was  not  mere  words.  When 
in  the  time  of  Cyprian  a  great  pestilence  raged  in 
Carthage,  and  the  heathen  abandoned  their  sick,  and, 
instead  of  burying  their  bodies,  cast  tliem  out  on  the 
streets,  the  bishop  convened  the  church  and  made  these 
representations  to  them :  "  If  we  show  kindness  only 
to  our  own,  we  do  no  more  than  publicans  and  heathen. 
As  Christians  who  would  become  perfect  we  must  over- 
come evil  with  good,  love  our  enemies,  as  the  Lord 
exhorts,  and  pray  for  our  persecutors.  Since  we  are 
born  of  God  we  must  show  ourselves  to  be  children  of 
our  Father  who  continually  causes  His  sun  to  rise,  ard 


rHAP.  ra.J  LOVE  TOWARD  ENEMIES.  206 

from  time  to  time  gives  showers  to  nourish  the  seed^ 
exhibiting  all  these  kindnesses  not  only  to  His  people, 
but  to  aliens  also."  Upon  his  summons  the  church 
engaged  in  the  work.  Some  gave  money,  others  shared 
in  the  labor,  and  soon  the  dead  were  buried.^^^  So 
was  it,  also,  at  Alexandria,  in  connection  with  a  pes- 
tilence in  the  time  of  the  Emperor  Gallienus.  While 
the  heathen  fled,  while  the  sick  were  thrust  out  of 
doors,  and  the  half-dead  thrown  into  the  streets,  tht 
Christians  cared  for  all,  spared  not  themselves  in  the 
service  of  the  sick  and  dying,  and  many  brethren,  even 
presbyters  and  deacons,  sacrificed  their  lives  in  such 
ministry.^^  And  they  did  this  immediately  after  they 
had  been  most  horribly  persecuted  by  the  heathen,  and 
while  the  sword  still  hung  daily  over  their  heads.^®^ 

V.      MABTTKDOM. 

With  love  went  sorrow  hand  in  hand.  The  witness 
of  word,  of  conduct,  of  love  was  perfected  in  the 
witness  of  blood,  in  martyrdom.  The  power  of  the 
martyr's  death  lay  precisely  in  this  fact,  that  this  event 
was  the  completion  of  the  testimony  given  by  his  life. 
For  it  is  not  suffering  in  itself  considered,  it  is  not 
merely  the  martyr's  pangs  and  death-throes  which  give 
to  martyrdom  its  value,  but  the  disposition  in  which  all 
this  is  endured.  Not  every  martyrdom  is  a  victory  for 
the  church,  but  only  those  which  are  genuine  and  pure. 

It  is  first  of  all  essential  to  genuineness  and  purity 
of  martyrdom,  that  the  disposition  and  demeanor  of 
the  martyr  be  free  from  insubordination  toward  the 
State,  and  the  magistracy  ordained  by  God.  The  Chris- 
tian has  to  recognize  at  all  times,  and  in  every  particu- 
lar, the  civil  government  which  is  over  him,  and  tc 


206  MARTYRDOM.  [book  ;^ 

honor  all  its  laws  and  ordinances  as  proceeding  from 
his  rulers,  even  when  these  laws  and  ordinances  are 
contrary  to  God's  Word.  In  such  a  case  he  cannot, 
indeed,  honor  them  by  obeying  them,  for  he  must  obey 
God  and  not  man,  but  by  willingly  and  patiently  sub- 
mitting to  whatever  penalties  for  this  reason  the  laws 
award  to  him.  Then  he  honors  the  government  and 
the  laws  by  suffering,  and  in  truth  a  man  cannot  more 
fully  attest  his  regard  for  the  law  than  by  sacrificing  to 
it  his  life.  And  every  act  of  insubordination  toward 
the  government,  every  failure  to  show  respect  to  the 
laws  which  it  enacts,  is  to  the  Christian  a  sin.  When 
he  suffers  not  for  evil  doing,  but  for  well  doing  (1  Pet. 
ii.  20,  iii.  17),  he  suffers  simply  for  Christ's  sake. 
Then  it  may  be  said :  "  Who  is  he  that  will  harm  you 
if  ye  be  followers  of  that  which  is  good?"  (1  Pet. 
iii.  13.) 

The  early  Christians  preserved  this  purity  of  martyr- 
dom most  solicitously.  Always  and  everywhere  they 
showed  their  readiness  to  honor  the  Emperor,  and  to 
obey  him  in  all  things  as  dutiful  subjects,  save  when 
he  commanded  them  to  forsake  Christ,  and  to  worship 
idols.  Nowhere  is  to  be  found  a  trace  of  disobedience, 
or  even  of  want  of  respect  toward  the  magistracy,  and 
they  suffered  patiently  the  penalties  awarded  them  by 
its  authority  on  account  of  their  confession,  praying 
even  in  death  for  the  welfare  of  the  Emperor.  Innu- 
merable are  the  times  when  the  martyrs,  under  the  ago- 
nies of  torture,  testified  before  their  judges,  at  the  place 
of  execution,  that  they  were  willing  to  obey  the  Em- 
peror, but  to  worship  him,  to  strew  incense  to  him,  that 
they  could  not  do.  The  Apologists  often  protested  that 
the  Christians  were  obedient  subjects  who  made  it  a 


CHAP.  in.J  PURITY  OF  MAETTBDCM.  207 

matter  of  conscience  not  to  break  the  law5  of  the  State 
in  the  smallest  particulars.  "Therefore  I  will  honor 
the  Emperor,"  says  Theophilus  in  his  work  addressed  to 
Autolycus,  "  not  worshipping  him  but  praying  for  him. 
I  worship  the  true  God  only,  knowing  that  the  Empe- 
ror is  made  by  Him.  You  will  say  then  to  me :  Why 
do  you  not  worship  the  Emperor  ?  Because  he  is  not 
made  to  be  worshipped,  but  to  be  reverenced  with  lawful 
honor.  For  he  is  not  God,  but  a  man,  appointed  by 
God,  not  to  be  worshipped,  but  to  judge  justly."^®* 
Tertullian  calls  the  attention  of  the  heathen  to  the 
fact,^*^  that  the  Christians  were  in  a  condition  to  make 
resistance,  and  to  acquire  by  violence  liberty  of  faith, 
since  their  numbers  were  so  great,  constituting  almost 
a  majority  in  every  city.  Yet  they  obeyed  the  injunc- 
tions of  patience  taught  in  their  divine  religion,  and 
lived  in  quietness  and  soberness,  recognizable  in  no 
other  way  than  by  the  amendment  of  their  former  lives. 
The  Christians,  he  rightly  points  out,  were  truer  and 
more  obedient  subjects  of  the  Emperor  than  the  hea- 
then. In  irony  he  exclaims:  "We  acknowledge  the 
faithfulness  of  the  Romans  to  the  Csesars !  If  o  con- 
spiracy has  ever  broken  out,  no  Emperor's  blood  has 
ever  fixed  a  stain  in  the  Senate  or  even  in  the  palace ; 
never  has  their  majesty  been  dishonored  in  the  prov- 
inces. And  yet  the  soil  of  Syria  still  exhales  the  odor 
of  their  corpses,  and  Gaul  has  not  yet  washed  away 
their  blood  in  the  waters  of  its  Rhone."  ^^  Then  he 
Bets  in  contrast  the  fidelity  and  obedience  of  the  Chris- 
tians, who  join  in  no  intrigues  nor  riots,  who  pray  for 
the  Emperor  whatever  his  character,  who  supplicate  for 
him  from  God  a  long  life,  a  peaceful  reign,  security  in 
his  palace,  brave  armies,  loyalty  in  the  Senate,  virtue 


208  MARTTTBDOM.  [BOOK  i 

among  the  people,  peace  in  the  whole  world.  "So 
that,"  he  covicluies,  "I  might  say  on  valid  grounds  that 
the  Emperor  is  more  ours  than  jours,  for  our  God  has 
appointed  him."^*^  Even  in  the  midst  of  the  excite- 
ment of  a  bloody  persecution  the  most  conscientious 
care  was  observed  lest  any  thing  sliould  be  done  which 
might  occasion  the  semblance  of  disobedience.  Thus, 
for  example,  Cyprian  ^^^  expressed  disapproval  in  the 
strongest  terms  when  some  persons  who  had  been  ban- 
ished on  account  of  their  Christian  faith  returned  with- 
out the  express  permission  of  the  authorities.  "For 
how  great  a  disgrace,"  he  says,  "  is  suffered  by  your 
name  when  one  returns  to  that  country  whence  he  was 
banished,  to  perish  when  arrested,  not  now  as  being  a 
Christian,  but  as  being  a  criminal."  Even  to  a  perse- 
cuting government,  even  to  its  injustice  and  cruelty  the 
Christian  should  oppose  nothing  but  quiet  and  patient 
suffering. 

This  purity  of  martyrdom  was  most  fittingly  ex- 
pressed by  the  martyrs'  dying  with  praise  and  thanks- 
giving. "  A  Christian  even  when  he  is  condemned 
gives  thanks,"  ^^  —  the  truth  of  these  words  is  often 
attested  in  the  Acts  of  the  Martyrs.  "O  Lord  God 
Almighty,"  prayed  Poly  carp  as  he  stood  on  the  funeral 
pile,  "Father  of  Thy  beloved  and  blessed  Son  Jesus 
Christ  by  whom  we  have  received  the  knowledge 
of  Thee,  the  God  of  angels  and  powers,  and  of  the 
whole  creation  and  of  all  the  race  of  the  righteous  who 
live  before  Thee,  I  bless  Thee  that  Thou  hast  counted 
me  worthy  of  this  day  and  this  hour,  that  I  should 
have  a  part  in  the  number  of  Thy  witnesses,  in  the 
cup  of  Thy  Christ."  "®  When  the  Scillitan  martyrs  in 
Numidia  (about  200  A.  D.)  received  their  sentence  of 


CHiP.  m.]  PURITY  OF  MARTYRDOM.  209 

death,  they  praised  God,  and  when  they  reached  the 
place  of  execution,  falling  on  their  knees,  they  gave 
thanks  anew.^^^  We  often  hear,  also,  that  like  the  first 
martyr  Stephen  they  prayed  for  their  enemies.  A 
Palestinian  Christian  named  Paulus  prayed,  before  he 
received  the  death-stroke,  that  God  would  lead  all  the 
heathen  to  faith  and  salvation,  and  he  forgave  the 
judge  who  had  condemned  him,  and  the  executioner 
who  carried  the  sentence  into  effect.^^^  Pionius,  a  mar- 
tyr in  Smyrna,  was  heard  supplicating,  from  the  flames 
of  the  pyre,  for  the  Emperor,  for  his  judges,  and  for  all 
the  heathen.  When  an  audible  Amen  was  on  his  lips, 
the  flames  smote  together  above  him,  and  ended  his 
life."' 

We  hear  no  expressions  of  revenge,  nor  of  anger,  no 
maledictions,  no  curse.  Even  among  the  inscriptions 
of  the  Catacombs  nothing  of  the  sort  appears.  No 
where  is  judgment  invoked  on  their  persecutors.  Only 
one  sigh  is  recorded,  in  the  Catacomb  of  Callistus: 
"O  sorrowful  times,  when  we  cannot  even  in  caves 
escape  our  foes."  "*  Even  pictures  of  persecution  (with 
but  one  exception,  that  of  the  trial  of  a  Christian,  in 
the  cemetery  of  Praetextatus)  are  not  to  be  found. 
Symbolic  representations  only  are  common,  —  Daniel 
in  the  lions'  den,  the  Three  Children  in  the  fiery  fur- 
nace, Elijah  ascending  to  heaven  in  the  chariot  of  fire."^ 
When  we  consider  the  burning  hatred  with  which  the 
heathen  persecuted  the  Christians,  the  inhuman  cruel- 
ties which  were  allowed  (enough  concerning  these  will 
be  said),  we  learn  to  admire  the  purity  of  a  martyr- 
dom which  even  in  this  respect  followed  the  word  of 
the  apostle:  "Reo^mpense  to  no  man  evil  for  evil!" 
and  the  admonition  of  the  Lord :  "  Pray  for  them 
which  despitefully  use  you,  and  persecute  you." 


210  MARTYRDOM.  [book  i 

In  this  purity  of  martyrdom  lay  its  power.  If  the 
Christians  had  allowed  themselves  to  be  tempted  to 
offer  open  resistance  to  the  persecuting  State,  they  had 
been  lost.  The  State  would  have  ground  them  to 
pieces  with  its  gigantic  power.  If  they  had  been  en- 
ticed into  wrath  and  revenge  their  strength  would 
have  been  broken,  their  consciences  stained,  and  their 
martyrdom  deprived  of  its  power  to  act  upon  the  con- 
science. For  the  might  of  true  martyrdom  lies  in  this, 
that  it  not  merely  turns  the  edge  of  opposition  by  its 
patience,  but  also,  as  a  testimony,  touches  the  con- 
science. Not  infrequently  it  came  to  pass  that  the 
persecutors  themselves,  moved  by  this  irresistible  testi- 
mony, were  converted  at  the  place  of  execution,  and 
became  Christians. 

The  genuineness  of  Christian  martyrdom  was  proved, 
secondly,  by  its  freedom  from  enthusiasm  and  fanati- 
cism. Enthusiasm  is  an  impure  flame  which  blazes  up 
quickly  and  is  as  quickly  extinguished.  It  could  not 
have  accomplished  any  thing  in  the  conflict  we  are 
considering,  it  would  have  been  quickly  defeated  by 
the  power  of  the  Roman  State,  and  it  could  not  have 
produced  the  moral  effects  which  martyrdom  did.  Fa- 
naticism has  never  yet  built  up  the  Church,  and  when 
it  has  had  successes  they  have  been  merely  momentary. 
Fanaticism  is  a  heat  which  only  scorches.  The  Chris- 
tians allowed  themselves  no  mockery  of  the  heathen 
rites  or  idols,  nor  any  use  of  cutting  and  insulting 
language.  The  case  was  wholly  exceptional  in  which  a 
Christian  broke  in  pieces  an  image  of  a  god."*  It  came 
to  pass  that  individual  Christians,  excited  to  enthusi- 
asm, pressed  forward  to  martyrdom ;  the  chiirch  al- 
ways most  decidedly  disapproved  of  this.    "  We  do  no* 


OTAP.  m.]  FREEDOM  PROM  FANATICISM.  2H 

praise,"  writes  the  church  in  Smyrna  in  the  letter  in 
which  it  gives  an  account  of  the  maityrdom  of  its 
bishop,  Polycarp,  "those  who  give  themselves  up,  for 
the  Gospel  does  not  so  teach."  "^  Cyprian  exhorted  his 
people  during  a  violent  persecution :  "  Keep  peace  and 
tranquillity,  as  you  have  been  so  very  often  taught  by 
me.  Let  no  one  stir  up  any  tumult  for  the  brethren, 
nor  voluntarily  offer  himself  to  the  Gentiles.  For 
when  apprehended  and  delivered  up  he  ought  to  speak, 
inasmuch  as  God  abiding  in  us  speaks  in  that  hour."  "^ 
When,  during  a  plague  in  Carthage,  some  Christians 
lamented  that  they  should  die  on  a  sick-bed,  instead  of 
dying  as  martyrs,  the  Bishop  reminded  them ;  "  In  the 
first  place  martyrdom  is  not  in  your  power,  but  de- 
pends upon  the  grace  of  God.  Then,  besides,  God,  the 
searcher  of  the  reins  and  heart,  sees  you,  and  praises 
and  approves  you.  It  is  one  thing  for  the  spirit  to  be 
wanting  for  martyrdom,  and  another  for  martyrdom  to 
have  been  wanting  for  the  spirit.  For  God  does  not 
ask  for  our  blood,  but  for  our  faith.  This  sickness 
is  sent  to  prove  it.""^  The  church  teachers  never 
failed  to  remind  their  people  that  persecution  was  at 
once  a  judgment  on  the  church,  and  an  earnest  admoni- 
tion to  repentance. 

With  the  same  sobriety  of  judgment  the  Christians 
used  all  available  means  for  escaping  persecution.  Opin- 
ions differed  as  to  whether  it  was  right  to  flee.  Ter- 
tullian  decided  in  the  negative .^^  The  majority  took 
the  affirmative,  appealing  to  the  well-known  command 
of  our  Lord.  Yet  the  flight  should  not  imply  denial. 
It  must  be  merely  a  withdrawal,  in  which  he  who 
retires  leaves  every  thing  to  the  Lord,  and  holds  him- 
self in  readiness  when  hijs:  hour  comes.     Thus  Polycarp 


212  MARTTBDOM.  [book  i. 

retired  for  a  long  time,  as  did  Cyprian.  But  both 
showed  by  a  martyr's  death  that  their  retieat  was 
no  flight,  but  only  an  act  of  self-preservation  for  the 
right  moment.  To  purchase  freedom  in  a  time  of  per- 
secution, to  obtain  safety  by  bribery,  was  generally 
regarded  as  denial.  On  the  other  hand.  Christians 
were  to  avoid  every  thing  which  could  attract  to  them 
the  attention  of  the  heathen,  or  excite  them  to  greater 
violence.  Cyprian,  at  the  beginning  of  a  persecution, 
prudently  prescribed  the  arrangements  which  were 
thereby  rendered  necessary.  The  clergy  in  visiting 
the  confessors  in  the  prisons  should  take  turns;  the 
people  should  not  press  thither  in  crowds.  "  For,"  he 
writes,  "  meek  and  humble  in  all  things,  as  becomes  the 
servants  of  God,  we  ought  to  accommodate  ourselves  to 
the  times,  and  to  provide  for  quietness."  ^^^  Calmly 
each  awaited  the  moment  when  the  hour  of  his  perse- 
cution should  arrive,  and  then  stood  the  firmer,  and 
with  greater  patience  bore  whatever  came. 

Out  of  such  purity  of  martyrdom,  out  of  a  good  con- 
science to  suffer  only  for  Christ's  sake,  on  the  one  hand, 
out  of  such  a  spirit  of  sobriety  and  clearness  on  the 
other,  were  born  the  peace  and  joy  with  which  those 
who  witnessed  for  Christ  met  death,  and  endured  what 
w-as  worse  than  death.  The  worst,  indeed,  was  not 
instantaneous  death,  nor  the  exquisite  tortures  which 
often  preceded  it.  In  order  to  measure  completely  the 
greatness  of  the  contest,  we  must  look  into  that  inward 
conflict  which  preceded  or  accompanied  that  which  was 
external.  Great  must  have  been  the  temptation  to 
refine  away  the  necessity  of  suffering,  to  represent 
death  as  a  needless  sacrifice  which  might  as  well  be 
avoided,  especially  when  it  was  so  easy  to  escape  suf 


OHAP.  in.l  JOY  OF  THE  MABTYBS.  218 

fering,  when,  as  was  actually  the  case,  venal  judges 
offered  Christians  for  money  a  certificate,  as  though 
they  had  offered  sacrifice,  or  when  kindly  disposed 
judges  represented  to  the  accused  that  it  was  only  a 
question  of  a  mere  ceremony,  that  could  be  complied 
with  without  surrender  of  one's  convictions.  More 
painful  than  all  the  torments  which  iron  and  fire, 
hunger  and  tlurst,  prepared,  must  it  have  been  to  part 
from  father  and  mother,  wife  and  child,  and  to  turn 
away  from  their  entreaties,  their  lamentations,  their 
tears.  Harder  than  instantaneous  death  at  the  place 
of  execution  was  banishment  to  the  mines,  where  Chris- 
tians were  compelled  to  work  among  the  offscouring  of 
mankind,  and  like  them  have  scanty  fare,  be  clothed  in 
rags,  and  be  beaten  by  rough  overseers,  though  at  the 
price  of  a  single  word  they  could  be  free.^^  And  yet 
worse  than  this  some  endured.  Christian  virgins  (it  is 
verily  devilish)  were  condemned  to  be  taken  to  the 
public  brothels,  to  be  abandoned  there  to  the  most 
horrible  abuse.^^'  The  heathen  knew  how  highly  the 
Christians  esteemed  chastity,  and  that  to  them  its  loss 
was  worse  thasi  death.  And  yet,  when  the  Christian 
virgin  Sabina,  in  Smyrna,  was  apprised  of  this  sen- 
tence, she  replied,  "Whatever  God  willsl"^  That 
was  the  heroism  of  martyrdom,  that  was  to  conquer  all 
through  Christ.  A  faith  which  so  loved  and  suffered 
wan  invincible.  Its  victory  was  sure.  And  of  it  could 
the  Apostle  say,  even  before  the  conflict  had  begun: 
"Our  faith  is  the  victory  which  hath  overcome  the 
world." 


BOOK   SECOND. 


THE  CONFLICT. 


**  ThiBik  not  that  lam  come  to  send  peace  on  earth :  I  came  not  to 
peace,  Imt  a  sword"  ~  Matt.  x.  34. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  FIRST  ENCOUNTER. 
-  Fe  shall  he  hated  of  all  men  for  my  name's  sake.**  —  ^Iatt.  x.  22. 

I.       PRELIMINART   SURVEY. 

*'  Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  send  peace  on  earth ; 
I  came  not  to  send  peace,  but  a  sword."  Thus  had  oui 
Lord  spoken.  He  had  not  concealed  from  His  disciples 
the  conflict  which  awaited  them,  a  conflict  for  life  and 
death.  "  Ye  shall  be  hated  of  all  men  for  my  name's 
sake.  They  shall  lay  their  hands  on  you,  and  persecute 
you,  delivering  you  up  to  the  synagogues  and  intc 
prisons,  and  whosoever  killeth  you  will  think  that  he 
doeth  God  service."  It  could  not  be  otherwise.  Nevei 
in  human  history  have  two  opposing  powers  had  a 
sharper  encounter  than  Christianity  and  ancient  Hea- 
thenism, the  Christian  Church  and  the  Roman  State. 
It  is  the  antagonism  between  that  which  is  from  below 
and  that  which  is  from  above,  between  natural  develop- 
ment and  the  new  creation,  between  that  which  is  bom 
of  the  flesh  and  that  which  is  born  of  the  Spirit,  while 
behind  all  this,  according  to  the  Scriptures,  is  the  cod 

217 


218  PRELIMINARY  SURVEY.  [book  ul 

flict  between  the  Prince  of  this  world  and  the  Lord 
from  heaven. 

Two  such  powers  could  not  exist  peaceably  side  by 
side.  The  conflict  must  come,  and  be  for  life  or  death. 
Every  possibility  of  a  compromise  was  excluded.  This 
contest  might  be  occasionally  interrupted ;  but  it  could 
end  only  in  the  conquest  of  one  or  the  other  power. 
Christianity  entered  the  conflict  as  the  absolute  reli- 
gion, as  a  divine  revelation,  as  unconditionally  true, 
and  claimed  to  be  the  religion  for  all  nations,  because  it 
brought  to  all  salvation.  A  religion  co-existing  with 
others  the  heathen  could  have  tolerated,  as  they  did  so 
many  religions.  The  absolute  religion  they  could  not 
tolerate.  Diverging  opinions  about  God  and  divine 
things  could  be  allowed,  but  not  the  perfect  truth, 
which,  because  it  was  the  truth,  excluded  every  thing 
else  as  false.  A  new  religion  for  a  single  nation  might 
have  given  no  offence.  It  would  have  been  recognized, 
as  were  so  many  heathen  cults,  and  monotheistic  Juda- 
ism as  well.  But  a  universal  religion  could  not  be  thus 
allowed.  The  conflict  was  for  nothing  less  than  the 
dominion  of  the  world.  From  its  nature  it  could  only 
end  in  the  complete  victory  of  one  side  or  the  other. 

Christianity  entered  the  field  conscious,  through  the 
assurances  of  our  Lord,  that  the  world  was  its  promised 
domain.  Its  messengers  knew  that  they  were  sent  on  a 
mission  of  universal  conquest  for  their  Lord,  and  the 
youthful  Christianity  itself  proved  that  it  was  a  world- 
subduing  power  by  the  wonderful  rapidity  with  which 
it  spread.  After  it  had  passed  beyond  the  bounda- 
ries of  the  land  and  the  people  of  Judaea,  after  the 
great  step  was  taken  of  carrying  the  Gospel  to  the 
heathen,  and  receiving  them  into  the  Christian  Chiuob 


CHAP.  1.]  SFBEAD  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  219 

without  requiring  circumcision  or  their  becoming  Jews, 
it  secured  in  Syrian  Antioch  its  first  missionary  centre ; 
and  from  this  point  Paul,  the  great  Apostle  of  the  Gen- 
tiles, bore  it  from  city  to  city  through  Asia  Minor  to 
Europe,  through  Greece  to  Kome,  the  metropolis  of  the 
world.  His  line  of  march  was  along  the  great  roads, 
the  Iiighways  of  travel,  which  the  Komans  had  built. 
Everywhere  the  Jewish  communities  served  his  pur- 
poses, like  the  magazines  provided  for  soldiers.  The 
synagogues  were  the  points  at  which  Christianity  could 
be  planted.  There  Paul  and  his  co-laborers  preached 
the  risen  Messiah,  and  proved  from  the  prophets  that 
Jesus  is  the  Christ.  The  Jews,  it  is  true,  for  the  most 
part  opposed,  but  the  proselytes  were  a  prepared  field 
in  which  the  scattered  seed  soon  sprang  up.  The 
Jewish  opposition  resulted  in  a  separation  from  the 
synagogue  communities.  Independent  Christian  socie- 
ties were  formed,  under  their  own  overseers.  And  in 
them  the  converts  won  from  among  the  proselytes 
formed  a  means  of  connection  with  others  who  had 
hitherto  belonged  wholly  to  Heathenism.  We  know 
too  little  of  this  first  period,  apart  from  what  is  told 
us  in  the  Book  of  Acts,  to  obtain  an  exact  view  of  this 
diffusion  of  Christianity.  Yet  when  we  notice  that 
Paul,  even  in  his  first  journey  to  Rome,  finds  Christians 
in  Italy,  and  this  not  merely  in  the  capital,  but  also  in 
little  Puteoli,  we  are  warranted  in  assuming  that  after 
a  few  decades  there  were  in  all  the  cities,  large  and 
small.  Christian  churches,  or,  if  not  perfectly  organ- 
ized societies,  at  least  little  bands  of  Christians.  In 
the  same  way  the  church  spread  eastward  and  south- 
wf ,rd,  and  yet  more  vigorously,  for  the  Jewish  popula- 
tion was  denser.    We  find  Peter  in  Babylon.    Edessa 


220  PRELIMINARY  SURVEY.  [book  n. 

is  already  a  missionary  centre.  Still  moie  important 
was  the  church  of  Alexandria,  whose  founder  is  said  to 
have  been  John  Mark.  Still  others,  even  earlier,  had 
carried  the  Gospel  beyond  the  bounds  of  the  Roman 
Empire ;  Thomas  to  Parthia,  Andrew  to  Scythia,  Bar 
tholomew  to  India,  that  is,  probably,  to  Yemen.  From 
Rome,  moreover,  the  church  appears  to  have  been  trans- 
planted on  the  one  side  into  Africa,  on  the  other  into 
Gaul  and  as  far  as  Germany  and  Britain.  At  least 
hardly  a  century  had  passed  since  the  day  of  Pente- 
cost before  the  entire  Roman  Empire  was  covered  with 
a  net-work  of  Christian  churches.  Although  these  may 
still  have  been  small  as  respects  the  number  of  their 
members,  yet,  even  in  the  time  of  Nero,  Tacitus  speaks 
of  a  great  multitude  of  Christians  in  Rome,  and  other 
indications  point  to  the  conclusion  that  Christianity 
had  gained  an  uncommonly  rapid  diffusion  not  only 
territorially,  but  also  as  respects  the  number  of  its 
professors. 

How  did  this  extension  take  place  ?  Without  doubt 
by  means  of  missions.  The  church  in  Antioch  was  not 
the  only  one  which  esteemed  it  a  duty  to  send  forth 
messengers  of  the  Gospel  (Acts  xiii.  2),  and  though 
Paul  could  say  that  he  had  labored  more  abundantly 
than  they  all,  yet  other  laborers  stood  by  his  side. 
Though  many  things  which  are  reported  to  us  concern- 
ing the  activity  of  the  other  Apostles  are  legendary, 
this  much  stands  firm  —  they  did  :aot  fold  their  hands  ^ 
From  a  later  time  Origen  informs  as  explicitly  that  the 
city  churches  sent  out  their  own  missionaries  in  order 
to  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  villages.  Then  we  must 
recall  our  Lord's  sajdng  respecting  the  self-growing 
seed  (Mark  iv.  26-28):  "So  is  the  kingdom  of  God, 


0HAP.  I.]         WAYS  AND  MEANS  OF  EXTENSION.  221 

as  if  a  man  should  cast  seed  into  the  ground,  and 
should  sleep  and  rise  night  and  day,  and  the  seed 
should  spring  and  grow  up,  he  knoweth  not  how.  For 
the  earth  bringeth  forth  fruit  of  herself;  first  the  blade, 
then  the  ear;  after  that  the  full  corn  in  the  ear." 
Every  Christian  became  a  missionary,  a  witness  to  the 
Lord  in  whom  he  had  found  comfort  and  peace.  Trav- 
elling craftsmen  and  traders  (for  example  Aquila  and 
Priscilla,  who  appear  so  often  in  the  Epistles  of  Paul) 
told  of  the  Messiah  who  had  come,  and  brought  tidings 
of  what  had  occurred  at  Jerusalem.  Others  completed 
the  narrations.  A  small  company  meet  in  private 
houses.  Some  one  is  found  for  a  leader,  and  the  little 
circle  forms  itself  into  a  churcJli.  Public  preaching  on 
the  streets  or  squares  of  the  cities  was  not  wanting,  as 
for  instance  the  Apostle's  sermon  in  Athens.  There 
was  nothing  unusual  in  this,  inasmuch  as  at  that  age 
philosophers,  or  whoever  had  a  new  doctrine  to  pro- 
claim, appeared  in  public  and  addressed  the  people. 
The  private  diffusion  of  Christianity  was,  perhaps, 
even  more  powerful  and  effective.  One  person  told  to 
another  where  he  had  found  peace  and  comfort  —  one 
laborer  to  another,  one  slave  to  his  fellow-slave.  What 
was  heard  was  interchanged,  as  was  also  what  was 
received  in  writing,  a  Gospel,  it  may  be,  or  an  apostoli- 
cal Epistle.  The  susceptibility  of  these  Christian  bands, 
on  the  one  side,  and  on  the  other  the  kindling  —  we 
might  say,  the  inflaming  —  power  of  Cliristianity,  to- 
gether with  the  activity  of  the  Apostles  and  apostolic 
men,  are  the  elements  to  be  especially  considered  in  this 
extension  of  Christianity. 

These  facts  have  also  already  indicated  in  what  circles 
the  preaching  of  the  Crucified  One  first  found  accept 


222  PRELIMINARY  SURVEY.  [book  n. 

ance.  "  See  your  calling,"  writes  St.  Paul  (1  Cor.  i.  26, 
27),  "how  that  not  many  wise  men  after  the  flesh,  not 
many  mighty,  not  many  noble,  are  called,  but  God  hath 
chosen  the  foolish  things  of  the  world,  to  confound  the 
wise:  and  God  hath  chosen  the  weak  things  of  the 
world,  to  confound  the  things  which  are  mighty;  and 
base  things  of  the  world,  and  tilings  which  are  despised, 
hath  God  chosen,  yea,  and  things  which  are  not,  to 
bring  to  nought  things  that  are."  "Not  m:»,ny"  — 
some,  however,  from  the  higher  classes  were  even  thus 
early  to  be  found.  At  least  the  recent  investigations 
in  the  Catacombs  at  Rome,  and  the  discovery  of  Chris- 
tian burial-chambers  whose  rich  artistic  ornamentation 
belongs  to  the  first,  or  the  beginning  of  the  second, 
century,  have  made  it  probable  that  Christianity  must 
have  found  access  earlier  than  has  been  believed,  and 
to  a  greater  degree,  to  the  higher  Roman  families. 
De  Rossi,^  the  explorer  of  the  Roman  Catacombs,  has 
shown  that  in  the  oldest  part  of  the  Catacomb  of 
Callistus,  which  is  named  for  St.  Lucina,  members 
of  the  gens  Pomponia,  —  from  which  Atticus,  Cicero's 
friend,  sprang,  —  and  perhaps  members  of  the  Flavian 
house,  were  interred.  So  early  had  the  Christian  faith 
made  its  way  into  the  old  Roman  families.  Still,  the 
great  majority  were  people  of  inferior  rank.  Even 
toward  the  end  of  the  second  century  Celsus  scoffs 
that  wool-dressers,  cobblers,  and  tanners  were  the  most 
zealous  Christians.  Above  all  it  was  the  poor,  who  as 
the  poor  in  spirit  embraced  the  Gospel  of  the  lowly 
Jesus  who  makes  many  rich.  The  oppressed  and 
harassed,  whom  the  spirit  of  Antiquity  despised,  the 
laboring  classes,  the  slaves,  were  the  ones  who  opened 
their  hearts  to  the  message  of  the  kingdom  of  God  as 


CHAP  I.]  RECEPTION  OF  CHRISTIAXETY.  223 

the  realm  of  liberty  and  peace.  Or  wherever  there 
were  yearning  souls,  already  at  variance  with  the  an- 
cient views  of  the  world,  and  whom  neither  the  pagan 
religion  nor  the  pagan  philosophy  could  satisfy,  souls 
weary  and  heavy  laden,  there  were  those  who  had  an 
open  ear  for  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel. 

But  while  this  attracted  some,  it  excited  in  others  — 
at  first  by  far  the  larger  part  —  oppooition  and  hate. 
Every  thing  about  it  was  too  strangw  to  the  heathen, 
too  repugnant  to  the  views  with  which  they  had  been 
familiar  from  childhood,  for  them  to  be  able  to  under- 
stand it.  To  a  cultivated  and  high-born  Roman  this 
whole  fellowship  of  artisans  and  slaves  was  far  too  con- 
temptible, and  its  superstition  far  too  absurd,  to  admit 
of  his  at  all  busying  himself  with  it  and  inquiring  with 
any  special  care  as  to  its  precise  character.  Accurately 
as  contemporary  writers  collect  whatever  else  is  worthy 
of  note,  Christianity  is  scarcely  mentioned  by  them 
down  to  the  middle  of  the  second  century.  Pliny  the 
Younger,  and  even  Tacitus,  although  he  relates  the 
persecution  by  Nero,  evidently  do  not  regard  it  as 
worth  while  to  concern  themselves  about  this  generall} 
despised  mass  of  men.  That  such  persons,  on  the  whole, 
deserved  nothing  better  than  to  be  thus  persecuted, 
even  without  investigation,  passed  with  them  as  some- 
thing settled.  Precisely  where  something  of  the  gen- 
uine Roman  spirit  prevailed  was  the  opposition  the  most 
powerful,  for  the  Christian  spirit  and  the  Roman  stood 
in  sharpest  antagonism.  The  circles  of  the  aristocracy 
were  the  most  difficult  in  which  the  church  could  make 
conquests.  They  were  for  the  most  part  morally  too 
corrupt  to  have  any  feeling  for  what  is  higher.  And 
where  a  better  spirit  prevailed,  where  the  endeavor  was 


224  PRELIMINARY  SURVEY.  [book  ix 

to  maintain  tlie  old  Roman  character  and  to  re-invig* 
orate  it,  this  effort  in  itself  involved  ill-will  toward  an 
oriental  religion  which  was  numbered  without  examina- 
tion with  "  the  detestable  and  senseless  "  that  flowed  to 
Rome,  and  with  the  innovations  which  must  be  set 
aside  in  order  to  restore  the  State  and  the  national  life 
to  the  old  traditional  basis. 

The  sentiment  of  the  middle  classes  is  mare  known 
to  us  in  the  ingenious  colloquy  which  Minr.cius  Felix 
wrote  in  defence  of  Christianity  under  the  title  Octa- 
vius.  Csecilius,  who  defends  Heathenism,  represents 
in  his  views  a  class  of  persons  large  then  as  always, 
persons  having  a  certain  measure  of  culture  yet  in- 
capable of  any  profound  knowledge,  and  touching  the 
subject  of  religion  only  on  the  surface.  Conserva- 
tive in  their  disposition  they  adhere  to  the  faith  in 
which  they  are  born  neither  from  choice,  nor  from 
inclination,  but  from  decorum  and  love  of  quiet.  They 
regard  it  as  a  mark  of  good  breeding  not  to  dispute* 
much  upon  such  a  topic.  They  are  no  dreamers,  nor 
mystics.  On  the  contrary  they  are  somewhat  scepti- 
cal, and  inclined  it  may  be  to  ridicule  religious  be- 
liefs. Yet  they  are  unwilling  to  see  the  old  traditions 
disturbed,  and  they  are  easily  inflamed  against  reli- 
gious innovators,  and  are  credulous  of  every  absurdity 
which  is  reported  about  them.  Nothing  in  Christianity 
more  excites  the  anger  of  Csecilius  than  its  claim  to  be 
in  possession  of  assured  truth.  Often  enough  does  he 
repeat  that  one  can  know  nothing  with  certainty.^ 
"Human  mediocrity  is  so  inadequate  to  the  explo- 
ration of  things  divine  that  it  is  not  granted  us  to 
know,  nor  is  it  permitted  to  search,  nor  is  it  religious 
to  force  the  things  which  are  upheld  suspended  in  the 


CHAP.  I.]       SENTIMENT  OF  THE  MIDDLE  CLASSES.  225 

heavens  above  us,  nor  those  which  are  sunk  deep 
in  subterranean  abysses."  Yet  in  spite  of  his  scep- 
ticism he  adheres  to  what  has  been  handed  down. 
"  Since  then  either  chance  is  certain,  or  nature  is  un- 
certain," this  is  his  last  word,  "  is  not  the  tradition  of 
the  fathers  the  most  venerable  and  the  best  guide  tou 
truth?  Let  us  follow  the  religion  which  they  have 
handed  down  to  us,  let  us  adore  the  gods  whom  we 
have  been  trained  from  childhood  to  fear  rather  than 
to  know  with  familiarity,  and  let  us  beware  of  disputing 
about  them."  8  This  seemed  to  him  the  surest  and 
most  useful  method.  He  clings  to  the  utility  of  the  old 
religion  inasmuch  as  its  truth  cannot  be  determined. 
"Since  all  nations  agree  to  recognize  the  immortal 
gods,  although  their  nature  or  their  origin  may  be 
uncertain,  I  cannot  endure  that  any  one  swelling  with 
audacity  and  such  irreligious  knowledge  should  strive 
to  dissolve  or  weaken  a  religion  so  old,  so  useful,  so 
salutary."  *  Without  doubt  many  held  the  same  posi- 
tion. They  had  no  longer  any  heart  for  the  old  reli- 
gion, yet  they  did  not  venture  directly  to  break  with  it. 
They  doubted,  they  reckoned  it  a  sign  of  culture  no 
longer  to  hold  the  ancient  creed  with  exactness,  they 
occasionally  scoffed  at  it,  —  this  was  a  mark  of  being 
well  bred ;  yet  at  last  they  helc  fast  to  the  old  faith 
They  lacked  the  energy  which  was  necessary  to  seize 
a  new  one. 

Besides  this  there  was  the  depressed  condition  of 
the  Christians  —  an  offence  to  all.  Much  was  involved 
in  attaching  one's  self  to  these  despised,  persecuted 
men.  What  we  call  /public  opinion  is  for  the  most 
part  determined  by  success.  The  God  of  the  Chris- 
tians had  so  far  shown  few  successes.    The  Roman 


226  PRELIMINABY  SURVEY.  [book  n 

deities  had  made  Rome  great,  had  given  her  the  victory 
in  countless  battles,  had  laid  at  the  feet  of  the  city  on 
the  Tiber  the  dominion  of  the  world.  But  this  God  of 
the  Christians,  why  did  He  not  interest  Himself  in 
those  who  believed  in  Him  ?  Why  allow  them  to  be  so 
despised  and  trodden  under  foot  ?  Did  the  Christians 
appeal  to  the  future,  did  they  point  to  the  day  of  final 
redemption  and  completion  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  to 
the  resurrection  and  the  coming  blessedness,  this  was 
to  the  heathen  of  no  importance,  since  the  present 
was  so  troubled.  "  Where  is  the  God  ?  "  asks  Csecilius, 
"  that  can  help  those  who  come  to  life  again,  while  He 
does  nothing  for  the  living?  Do  not  the  Romans 
govern  and  reign  without  your  God?  Do  they  not 
enjoy  the  whole  world  and  rule  over  you  ?  The  great- 
est and  best  portion  of  you  are  the  prey  of  want  and 
cold,  are  naked  and  hungry.  Your  God  suffers  this, 
and  seems  not  to  know  it.  Either  He  can  not,  or  will 
not,  help  His  own :  thus  He  is  either  weak,  or  unjust."  ^ 
A  mode  of  reasoning  which  must  certainly  have  struck 
home  to  the  heathen,  to  whom  the  present  was  all,  and 
whose  worship  had  this  ultimate  aim  —  the  attainment 
of  something  from  their  gods  as  a  reward  for  their 
zealous  veneration. 

The  less  Christianity  was  understood,  and  the  more 
foreign  and  contradictory  every  thing  about  it  was  to 
the  opinions  which  hitherto  had  been  accepted,  the 
more  easy  was  it  for  misunderstanding  and  hatred  to 
excite  the  strangest  reports ;  and  the  more  absurd  these 
were,  the  more  readily  did  they  obtain  currency,  not 
only  among  the  masses  who  are  always  credulous,  but 
even  more  widely  and  in  select  circles. 

The  spiritual  worship  of  the  Christians  was  something 


cmAT.  I.]  SLANDEROUS  REPORTS.  227 

utterly  unintelligible  to  the  heathen.  No  pagan  could 
conceive  of  a  religious  service  without  temples  and 
images,  without  altars  and  sacrifices.  Since  the  Chris- 
tians had  none  of  these  they  could  not  have  a  God. 
It  is  true  they  talked  of  an  invisible,  omnipresent 
God,  but  such  a  Deity  was  to  the  heathen  inconceiv- 
able. "  What  absurdities,"  exclaims  Caecilius,^  "  do 
these  Christians  invent  I  Of  the  God  whom  they  can 
neither  show  nor  see  they  recount  that  He  is  every- 
where present,  that  He  comes  and  goes,  that  He  knows 
and  judges  the  actions  of  men,  their  words,  and  even 
their  secret  thoughts.  They  make  Him  out  to  be  a  spy, 
a  troublesome  policeman,  who  is  always  in  motion."^ 
How  can  He  attend  to  every  particular,  when  He  is 
occupied  with  the  whole  ?  Or  how  can  He  be  sufficient 
for  the  whole,  when  He  is  engaged  with  particulars  ?  " ' 
Therefore  the  Christians  appeared  to  them  to  be  god- 
less, to  be  atheists.  Away  with  the  atheists  !  was  the 
customary  cry  of  popular  rage  in  the  persecutions.  Or, 
since  the  Christians  according  to  pagan  thought  must 
have  some  sort  of  a  deity,  the  slander  circulated  about 
the  Jews  was  transferred  to  them  —  they  adored  the 
head  of  an  ass.  Thus  in  Tertullian's  day,  there  was 
circulated  a  picture  of  a  figure  with  the  ears  of  an  ass, 
clothed  with  a  toga,  holding  a  book  in  its  hands,  and 
with  these  words  inscribed  beneath :  "  The  God  of  the 
Christians.''^  So  likewise,  among  the  ruins  of  the 
Palace  of  the  Csesars  in  Rome,  there  has  recently  been 
found  a  sketch,  roughly  drawn  with  charcoal  on  the 
wall,  representing  a  man  with  an  ass's  head  hanging  on 
a  cross,  and  below,  in  rude  Greek  letters :  "  Alexamenoa 
adores  his  god."  Evidently  a  scoif  of  the  soldiers  at 
some  Christian  comrade.^® 


228  PEELIMINARY  SURVEY  [book  u 

Even  worse  accusations  were  made.  The  close  con- 
nection of  Christians  with  each  other,  their  brotherlj 
love,  their  firm  union  even  to  death,  it  was  believed, 
could  only  be  explained  by  the  fact  that  they  were 
united  in  a  secret  sacrilegious  covenant  by  horrid  oaths 
and  yet  more  horrible  practices.  Men  shuddered  as 
they  related  that  in  the  Christian  assemblies,  at  the 
Agapce^  human  flesh  was  eaten,  and  human  blood  drunk. 
"The  story  about  the  initiation  of  novices,"  Caecilius 
narrates,  "  is  as  much  to  be  detested  as  it  is  well  known. 
An  infant  covered  over  with  meal,  that  it  may  deceive 
the  unwary,  is  placed  before  the  neophytes.  This  in- 
fant is  slain  by  the  young  pupil,  with  dark  and  secret 
wounds,  he  being  urged  on  as  if  to  harmless  blows  on 
the  surface  of  the  meal.  Thirstily  —  O  horror !  —  they 
lick  up  its  blood ;  eagerly  they  divide  its  limbs ;  by  this 
victim  they  are  pledged  together ;  with  this  conscious- 
ness of  wickedness  they  are  covenanted  to  mutual 
silence."  After  the  feast,  it  is  further  related,  when 
they  are  intoxicated,  a  dog  that  has  been  tied  to  the 
chandelier  is  provoked  by  throwing  a  morsel  to  jump, 
and  by  the  leap  he  extinguishes  the  light,  and  in  the 
darkness  thus  occasioned,  deeds  of  the  most  abominable 
lust  are  committed  and  the  wildest  orgies  are  cele- 
brated. Even  cultivated  and  thoughtful  heathen  like 
the  Orator  Fronto  under  Marcus  Aurelius,  and  even,  it 
appears,  the  Emperor  himself  credited  such  reports; 
and  those  who  did  not  wholly  accept  them  were  oi 
the  opinion  that  things  so  utterly  impious,  and  only  to 
be  mentioned  with  apology,  would  not  be  reported 
unless  there  were  some  foundation  in  truth. 

But  apart  from  such  stories,  —  which  with  the  lapse 
of  time  must  have  been  seen  to  be  wholly  baseless, 


CHAF,  1.]  ENEMIES  OF  MANKIND.  229 

though  believed  through  many  a  decade  and  often 
enough  kindling  the  rage  of  the  populace  and  influ- 
encing even  the  measures  of  the  government,  —  the 
Christians  passed  with  the  heathen  as  a  race  averse  to 
all  that  is  great,  fair  and  noble  in  our  humanity,  as  even 
hostile  to  it,  and  haters  of  mankind.  In  its  origin  their 
religion  was  barbarian :  they  despised  all  science.  This 
is  the  rule  laid  down  by  them,"  writes  Celsus :  ^^  "  Let 
no  one  come  to  us  who  has  been  educated,  or  who  is 
wise  or  prudent,  for  such  qualifications  are  deemed 
evil  by  us;  but  if  there  be  any  ignorant,  or  unculti- 
vated, or  unintelligent,  or  foolish  person,  let  him  come 
with  confidence."  Their  teachers,  he  affirms,  say :  "  See 
that  none  of  you  lay  hold  of  knowledge !  Knowledge 
is  an  evil.  Knowledge  causes  men  to  lose  their  sound- 
ness of  mind;  they  perish  through  "wisdom."  ^^  Since  the 
Christians  were  obliged  to  withdraw  from  public  life, 
since  they  took  no  part  in  the  pleasures  of  the  heathen 
nor  shared  in  their  interests,  they  were  regarded  as 
useless,  as  a  gloomy  and  light-shunning  race.  Their 
life  seemed  to  the  heathen  joyless  and  dismal.  "  We," 
says  one  of  their  number,  "  worship  the  gods  with  cheer- 
fulness, with  feasts,  songs  and  games,  but  you  worship 
a  crucified  man  who  cannot  be  pleased  by  those  who 
have  all  this  enjoyment,  who  despises  joy  and  condemns 
pleasures."  ^*  Even  what  the  Christians  said  of  a  judg- 
ment for  the  godless,  of  eternal  punishments  in  hell, 
was  deemed  a  proof  of  their  hatred  of  men.  To  the 
pagan  Caecilius  ^^  they  are  a  "  reprobate,  unlawful,  des- 
perate faction,"  who  had  conspired  against  all  that  is 
good  and  beautiful,  a  "people  skulking  and  shunning 
the  light,  silent  in  public,  but  garrulous  in  corners. 
They  despise  the  temples  as  charnel-houses,  they  abhoi 


230  PRELIMINARY  SURVEY.  [book  a 

the  gods,  they  laugh  at  sacred  things;  wretched,  thej 
pity,  if  they  are  allowed,  the  priests ;  half  naked  them« 
selves,  they  disdain  honors  and  purple  robes.  In  their 
wondrous  folly  and  incredible  audacity  they  despise 
present  torments,  though  they  dread  those  which  are 
uncertain  and  future ;  and,  while  they  fear  to  die  after 
death,  they  do  not  fear  to  die  for  the  present.  So 
does  a  deceitful  hope,  the  consolations  of  a  revival, 
soothe  their  fear."  The  solicitude  of  the  Christians  for 
their  salvation  was  to  the  heathen  something  wholly 
unintelligible  and  even  absurd,  and  they  regarded  the 
Christians  as  the  most  irrational  and  wretched  of  men 
because  they  renounced  the  sure,  substantial  blessings 
and  enjoyments  of  this  world  for  the  sake  of  things 
future  and  wholly  uncertain  in  order  to  escape  an  ima- 
ginary evil  and  attain  to  an  imaginary  blessedness. 
"  You  in  the  mean  time,  in  suspense  and  anxiety,"  says 
Caecilius,^^  "  are  abstaining  from  respectable  enjoyments. 
You  do  not  visit  the  shows;  you  are  not  present  in 
solemn  processions ;  you  do  not  appear  at  public  ban- 
quets; you  abhor  the  sacred  contests,  and  the  meats 
and  drinks  a  portion  of  which  has  been  offered  and 
poured  out  upon  the  altars.  You  do  not  wreathe  your 
heads  with  flowers  ;  you  do  not  honor  your  bodies  with 
odors  ;  you  reserve  unguents  for  funeral-rites,  you  even 
refuse  garlands  to  your  sepulchres  —  pale,  trembling 
beings,  worthy  of  pity,  even  the  pity  of  our  gods. 
Thus,  wretched  ones,  you  neither  rise  again,  nor  mean- 
while do  you  live."  Surely  if  Csecilius  was  correct  in 
this  last  statement,  he  was  altogether  right  in  calling 
the  Christians  the  most  wretched  of  human  beings. 
For  if  in  this  life  only  we  have  hope  in  Christ,  if  we 
ai*e  not  born  again  by  the  resurrection  of  Christ  tc  a 


CHAF.  I.]  POLITICAL  ACCtTSATIOKS.  231 

li\ing  hope,  we  are  indeed  of  all  men  the  most  miser- 
able (1  Cor.  XV.  19). 

The  greatest  peril  for  the  Christians  lay  in  this,  that 
these  reproaches  had  a  political  side,  or  that  they  could 
so  easily  be  turned  in  this  direction.  Just  because 
public  life  was  wholly  interwoven  with  Heathenism, 
were  Christians  compelled  to  withdraw  from  it.  Their 
demeanor  towards  the  State  was,  it  is  true,  everywhere 
determined  by  the  command :  "  Submit  yourselves  to 
every  ordinance  of  man  for  the  Lord's  sake,"  "Let 
every  soul  be  subject  unto  the  higher  powers,"  but 
while  the  State  was  thoroughly  pagan  their  relation  to 
it  could  only  be  a  negative  one.  Their  interests  lay 
elsewhere  than  in  the  Roman  State,  and  in  its  grandeur 
and  honor.  "  Nothing,"  Tertullian  acknowledges  with 
perfect  frankness,  "is  more  foreign  to  us  than  public 
affairs."  ^^  They  avoided  military  service  and  public 
offices,  for  the  soldier  was  obliged  to  assist  at  sacrifices, 
and  civil  officers  to  superintend  the  performance  of 
religious  rites.  Therefore  it  was  said :  "  You  are  a  lazy 
race,  useless  and  indolent  in  public  affairs,  for  it 
behooves  a  man  to  live  for  his  native  land  and  the 
State."  ^^  While  the  heathen  religions  were  thoroughly 
national,  Christianity  (and  this  was  to  pagan  thought 
something  wholly  absurd)  appeared  as  a  universal  reli- 
gion, as  a  religion  for  all  nations.  Even  those  who 
were  not  Romans,  even  the  barbarians,  who  confessed 
Christ,  were  to  the  Christians  brothers.  The  reproach 
w  as  close  at  Land :  You  yourselves  are  not  Romans, 
you  are  enemies  to  the  State.  Christianity  seemed 
to  the  heathen  anti-national,  and  the  church,  firmly 
united  in  its  faith  and  separate  from  all  other  men,  was 
looked  upon  as  a  dangerous  faction  in  the  State.     Waa 


232  PRELIMINARY  SURVEY.  [book  a 

the  Emperor's  birtMay  celebrated,  the  houses  of  the 
Christians  remained  dark  in  the  illuminated  cities,  and 
their  doors  were  not  garlanded.  Were  games  given  in 
honor  of  some  triumph,  no  Christian  allowed  himself 
to  be  seen  in  the  circus,  or  in  the  amphitheatre.  To 
strew  incense  to  the  Emperor,  to  do  homage  to  the 
image  of  the  Emperor,  to  swear  by  his  Genius,  was 
accounted  by  the  Christians  a  fall  into  idolatry.  Of 
course  they  were  deemed  guilty  of  high  treason,  ene- 
mies of  the  Emperor.  To  Romans  the  eternal  duration 
of  Rome  was  an  indisputable  truth.  How  often  Rome 
appears  on  coins  as  "  the  eternal  city."  "  To  them," 
says  Jupiter  in  Virgil,  "  I  set  neither  limit,  nor  times ; 
I  have  given  them  dominion  without  end."  ^^  The 
Christians  spoke  of  a  destruction  of  the  whole  world; 
therefore  of  Rome.  They  even  expected  this  speedily, 
and  rejoiced  in  it  as  in  a  redemption.  They  hoped  for 
another,  better  country,  and  regarded  this  earthly  one 
only  as  a  foreign  land.  Thus  they  were  a  people  with- 
out a  fatherland.  It  was  even  charged  that  they  plotted 
the  destruction  of  Rome.  Let  them  protest  as  often  as 
they  might  that  they  were  obedient,  peaceable  subjects, 
that  in  their  congregations  and  in  their  houses  they 
prayed  assiduously  for  the  Emperor,  that  they  paid 
punctually  their  taxes,  what  did  it  all  avail  ?  Here,  in 
truth,  was  an  antagonism  which  necessarily  led  to 
-  bloody  conflicts. 

All  the  States  of  Antiquity  had  a  theocratic  founda- 
tion, Rome  not  less  than  an}  other.  As  national  life 
was  everywhere  interwoven  with  religion,  so  the  reli- 
gious life  was  a  part  of  the  political.  It.  was  the  duty 
of  a  citizen  to  honor  the  national  gods,  and  to  obey  the 
laws  of  the  State  in  religious  things  as  in  all  others. 


OHAP.  I.]  GUILrY  OF  TREASON.  2C3 

Human  life  was  on  all  sides  absorbed  in  civil  lif vV  the 
State  embraced  and  regulated  all  its  departments.  \ 
pagan  could  not  conceive  the  possibility  of  there  being 
any  sphere  of  human  life  which  was  not  reached  by  the 
power  of  the  State.  It  was  to  him  wholly  incompre- 
hensible that  a  man  could  believe  himself  constrained 
from  regard  to  his  conscience,  for  the  sake  of  God,  aod 
in  order  to  obey  God,  to  refuse  obedience  to  any  law  or 
ordinance  of  the  State  whatsoever.  The  State  itself 
was  to  him,  so  to  speak,  God,  and  its  laws  divine.  In 
Rome  this  theocratic  tendency  culminated  in  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Emperors.  What  other  gods  a  man  might 
worship,  was  his  private  concern,  —  in  this  respect  the 
State  was  exceedingly  tolerant,  —  but  he  must  honor 
the  divine  Emperor,  this  was  his  duty  as  a  citizen. 
The  crimen  Icesce  majestatis,  the  crime  of  violating  the 
majesty  of  the  Emperor,  and  the  crimen  Icesce  publicce 
religionis,  the  crime  of  violating  the  established  reli- 
gion, were  most  intimately  connected.  From  this  point 
of  view  all  the  charges  above  mentioned  were  true. 
Christianity  was  for  Romans  anti-national,  hostile  to 
State  and  Emperor,  un-Roman,  an  opposition  to  the 
State  religion,  and  therefore  to  the  State  itself.  And 
so  long  as  the  State  was  built  on  such  foundations  it 
could  not  act  otherwise  than  it  did,  it  must  treat  and 
persecute  Christianity  as  a  prohibited  religion.  Won 
licet  esse  vos^^  you  have  no  right  to  exist,  this  was  the 
constantly  repeated  cry  against  Christianity.  "Your 
associations  are  contrary  to  law,"  thus  Celsus  begins  his 
book  against  the  Christians,  passing,  as  it  were,  sentence 
of  death  before  the  trial.  The  judicial  proceedings 
against  the  Christians,  as  these  fall  unier  our  notice  in 
numerous  Acts  of  the  Martyrs,  always  become  decisive 


234  PRELIMINARY  SlTRVEY  [book  n 

at  this  point,  —  the  refusal  of  the  accused  to  pay  divine 
honor  to  the  Emperor.  "You  ought  to  love  our 
princes,"  said  the  Proconsul  to  the  martyr  Achatius, 
—  to  give  merely  a  single  instance  of  thousands,  —  "  as 
behooves  a  man  who  lives  under  the  laws  of  the  Ro- 
man Empire."  Achatius  answered :  "  By  whom  is  the 
Emperor  more  loved  than  by  the  Christians  ?  We  sup- 
plicate for  him  unceasingly  a  long  life,  a  just  govern- 
ment of  his  peoples,  a  peaceful  reign,  prosperity  for  the 
army  and  the  whole  world." —  "  Good,"  replied  the  Pro- 
consul, "  but  in  order  to  prove  your  obedience,  sacrifice 
with  us  to  his  honor."  Upon  this  Achatius  explained : 
''I  pray  to  God  for  my  Emperor,  but  a  sacrifice  neither 
he  should  require  nor  we  pay.  Who  may  offer  divine 
honor  to  a  man?"  Upon  this  declaration  he  was  sen- 
tenced to  death.  This  one  transaction  is  typical  for  all. 
The  pagan-Roman  State,  so  long  as  it  bore  this  charac- 
ter could  not  do  otherwise  than  persecute  the  Christians. 
In  refusing  divine  honors  to  the  Emperor,  they  denied 
the  State  in  its  profoundest  principles.  Conversely,  if 
the  Christians  had  obeyed  in  this  particular,  they  would 
have  renounced  Christianity  in  its  inmost  essence. 
Here  was  a  conflict  which  could  be  settled  by  no  com- 
promise, which  could  only  be  gotten  rid  of  by  a  battle 
for  life  or  death.  Not  until  the  Emperor  bowed  before 
the  Supreme  God,  not  until  Christianity  became  tht 
foundation  of  the  State,  could  the  era  of  persecution 
come  to  an  end. 

Let  us  not  unjustly  censure  the  Emperors  who  perse- 
cuted the  Christians,  nor  the  judges  who  sentenced 
them  to  death.  Let  us  not  make  of  them,  as  did  the 
later  legends  of  the  martyrs  (not  the  ancient  and 
genuine  martyria  so  many  of  which    have   been   pre 


CHAP.  I.]  CHARACTER  OF  THE  CONFLICT.  £36 

served),  fanatical  and  bloodthirsty  tyrants.  The  judgea 
decided  simply  in  accordance  with  the  laws,  and,  in 
the  great  majority  of  cases,  did  so  coolly,  calmly,  with- 
out passion,  as  men  who  were  simply  discharging  their 
duty.  Among  the  Emperors  there  were  some,  who  like 
Nero  and  Domitian,  that  "  piece  of  Nero  in  cruelty,"  " 
as  Tertullian  says,  were  persecutors  from  cruelty  and 
thirst  for  blood,  but  most  of  them  were  actuated  by 
nobler  motives.  Those  of  the  second  century  recog- 
nized more  as  by  instinct,  those  of  the  third  clearly,  the 
danger  which  threatened  the  Roman  State  in  the  new 
spirit  of  Christianity,  and  they  strove  to  protect  it. 
We  must  concede  that  in  this  matter  they  were  not 
deceived.  Christianity  was,  in  fact,  a  power  hostile  to 
the  Roman  State  as  it  had  hitherto  existed.  The  new 
spirit  which  inspired  the  Christians  would  inevitably 
destroy  the  old  political  organization.  The  Emperors 
could  not  as  yet  perceive  what  renewing  and  rejuvenat- 
ing powers  for  the  State  were  possessed  by  Christianity. 
It  would  be  unjust  to  expect  from  the  Emperors  of  the 
second  century  the  act  of  Constantine.  It  would  have 
been  in  all  respects  premature. 

Let  us  avoid  forming  a  wrong  conception  of  the 
whole  conflict.  It  was  not,  as  later  times  have  thought 
in  an  entirely  unhistorical  way,  a  fanatical  war  waged 
with  uninterrupted  fury  by  the  old  faith  on  the  new. 
It  was  a  religious  contest  on  the  part  of  the  Christians 
ftlone,  who  suffered  and  died  for  their  faith.  Only  in 
its  last  stages  at  most  did  it  assume  this  character  to  the 
heathen.  In  this  fact  lay,  from  the  beginning,  the 
weakness  of  Heathenism,  and  the  strength  of  Chris- 
tianity. Not  the  priests,  but  the  Emperors  led  the 
attack,  and  the  Emperors  did  not  fight  for  their  faith  — 


236  PBELBUNAKY  SURVEY.  [booh  ji 

indeea  the  most  zealous  persecutors  were  pre-eminently 
sceptical  as  to  the  heathen  religions,  while  those  who 
were  believers  in  them  often  left  the  Christians  unmo- 
lested,—  they  fought  for  the  existing  order  of  the 
State,  and  the  object  of  their  endeavors  was,  not  to 
convert  the  Christians  again  to  the  pagan  faith,  but  to 
compel  them  to  submit  to  the  established  laws.  It  i^ 
true  the  Christians  never  rebelled  against  the  State. 
They  cannot  be  reproached  with  even  the  appearance 
of  a  revolutionary  spirit.  Despised,  persecuted,  abused, 
they  still  never  revolted,  but  showed  themselves  every- 
where obedient  to  the  laws,  and  ready  to  »pay  to  the 
Emperors  the  honor  which  was  their  due.  Yet  in  one 
particular  they  could  not  obey,  the  worship  of  idols, 
the  strewing  of  incense  to  the  Caesar-god.  And  in  this 
one  thing  it  was  made  evident  that  in  Christianity  lay 
the  germ  of  a  wholly  new  political  and  social  order. 
This  is  the  character  of  the  conflict  which  we  are  now 
to  review.  It  is  a  contest  of  the  spirit  of  Antiquit} 
against  that  of  Christianity,  of  the  ancient  heathen 
order  of  the  world  against  the  new  Christian  order. 

Ten  persecutions  are  commonly  enumerated,  viz., 
under  Nero,  Domitian,  Trajan,  Hadrian,  Marcus  Aa- 
relius,  Septimius  Severus,  Maximinus  the  Thracian, 
Decius,  Valerian,  and  Diocletian.^^  This  traditional 
enameration  is,  however,  very  superficial,  and  leaves 
entirely  unrecognized  the  real  course  of  the  struggle. 
The  persecutions  are  made  by  it  to  appear  as  arbitrary 
acts  of  particular  Emperors,  as  though  some  persecuted, 
while  others  recognized,  Christianity.  Though  times 
of  relative  tranquillity  occurred,  Christianity  remained, 
notwithstanding,  a  prohibited  religion.  This  being  the 
case,  the  simple  arrangement  of  the  persecutions  in  a 


OHAP.  I.J  CHBISTIAKrrY  PROHIBITED.  237 

series  makes  the  impression  that  they  were  all  of  the 
same  character,  while  in  fact  the  persecution  under 
Nero  was  wholly  different  from  that  under  Trajan  and 
his  successors,  and  this  again  varied  essentially  from 
those  under  Decius  and  Diocletian.  The  first  persecu- 
tion which  was  really  general  and  systematically  aimed 
at  the  suppression  of  the  Church,  was  the  Decian. 
That  under  Trajan  and  his  successors  consisted  merely 
of  more  or  less  frequent  processes  against  individual 
Christians,  in  which  the  established  methods  of  trial 
were  employed,  and  the  existing  laws  were  more  or  less 
sharply  used  against  them.^*  Finally,  the  persecutions 
under  Nero  and  Domitian  were  mere  outbreaks  of  per- 
sonal cruelty  and  tyrannical  caprice. 

In  what  has  preceded  I  have  indicated  the  three 
periods  which  mark  the  course  of  the  conflict. 

The  strictness  of  the  Roman  laws  against  foreign 
religions  has  been  already  noticed.  Christianity  be- 
longed to  this  class.  It  was  therefore  from  the  outset 
a  prohibited  religion.  The  Christian  churches  were 
illegal  societies  (collegia  illicita).  Participation  in  for- 
bidden associations  was  severely  punished.  The  penalty 
for  membership  was  the  same  as  for  appearing  at  public 
places  or  temples  with  weapons  in  the  hand,  the  pun- 
ishment of  treason;  that  is,  the  guilty  party  could, 
according  to  the  decision  of  the  judge,  be  either  be- 
neaded,  or  cast  to  the  wild  beasts,  or  burned.  If  these 
severe  laws  had  been  at  once  rigidly  employed  against 
the  youthful  Christianity,  ;t  must  have  immediately 
succumbed  to  the  attack.  But,  apart  from  the  fact 
already  noticed  that  the  Romans  were  somewhat  timid 
about  strictly  enforcing  these  laws,  two  circumstances 
came  to  the  help  of  Christianity,  and  secured  to  it  at 


238  PRELIMINARY  SURVEY.  [book  ii 

least  sufficient  protection  to  enable  it  to  gain  Btrength 
until  it  could  withstand  open  assault.  One  of  these 
was  the  protection  which  the  Christians  could  obtain 
under  the  laws  concerning  the  collegia.  To  these  legally 
sanctioned  collegia  belonged  the  burial  clubs,  —  associa- 
tions, mostly,  of  the  poorer  class  of  people,  who  joined 
together  to  secure  to  their  members,  by  regular  contri* 
butions,  suitable  burial  upon  their  decease,  and  the  due 
observance  of  the  usual  religious  solemnities  at  their 
interment  and  on  anniversary  days.  The  extensive 
catacombs  in  Rome  and  elsewhere  prove  that  the  Chris- 
tians enjoyed  legal  protection  for  their  graves.  There 
are  also  many  other  indications  that  they  endeavored  in 
every  possible  way  to  avail  themselves  of  the  shelter 
afforded  by  the  laws  and  usages  respecting  associations 
for  burial  purposes.  In  this  way  they  could  not  only 
bury  their  dead  in  safety  without  molestation  from  the 
heathen,  they  were  also  able  to  meet  together  under 
the  protection  of  law,  to  arrange  collections  for  the 
poor,  and  above  all  to  hold  their  services  of  religious 
worship  at  the  cemeteries.^* 

Of  greater  importance  than  this  means  of  protection 
—  which,  indeed,  was  of  more  avail  for  the  dead  than 
the  living  —  was  the  other  fact  to  which  I  have  referred, 
that  the  heathen  at  first  were  unable  to  distinguish  the 
Christians  from  the  Jews.  The  Christian  brotherhood^ 
passed  continually  with  the  Romans  for  Jewish  associa- 
tions, and  thus  they  remained  unmolested ;  and  more 
than  once  it  was  the  Roman  law  which  afforded  protec- 
tion to  the  nascent  Christianity  against  the  fanatical 
hatred  of  the  unbelieving  Jews.  Paul  appealed  suc- 
cessfully to  his  rights  as  a  Roman  citizen,  and  in  Cor 
inth  the  Proconsul  Gallio  drove  the  Jews  with  their 


I.J  MEANS  OF  PROTECTION.  23^ 

accusation  against  Paul  from  his  judgment-seat,  with 
the  declaration  that  he  was  not  disposed  to  be  a  judge 
of  their  disputes."^^ 

On  the  other  hand  the  Christians  inherited  all  the 
hatred  which  so  heavily  oppressed  the  Jews;  and 
this  hatred  did  not  diminish,  but  only  augmented  as 
the  heathen  ere  long  discovered,  especially  in  the 
large  cities,  that  there  was  a  difference  between  Jews 
and  Christians.  The  Jews  themselves,  who  every- 
where persecuted  the  Christians  most  violently,  took 
care  to  make  it  plain  that  the  latter  did  not  belong  to 
them.  At  first  the  Christians  appeared  to  the  heathen 
only  as  a  faction  of  the  Jews,  and,  indeed,  as  the  most 
dangerous  and  objectionable  faction  of  these  despisable 
and  irrational  beings,  and  therefore  when  the  cruelty 
and  murderous  passion  of  an  Emperor  like  Nero  seized 
upon  these  Christians  in  order  to  make  them  atone  for 
a  crime  of  which  they  were  guiltless,  he  could  be  sure 
of  the  assent  of  the  great  mass  of  the  people.  In  other 
respects,  though  the  zeal  of  a  governor  who  thought 
in  this  way  to  recommend  himself  to  the  Emperor,  or 
some  outburst  of  popular  rage  demanded  here  and 
there  a  victim,  no  systematic  persecution  of  the  Chris- 
tians occurred  in  this  period.  They  were  still  protected 
by  the  pagan  ignorance  of  the  true  character  of  their 
religion.  They  were,  besides,  too  insignificant  to  make 
it  possible  for  them  to  be  regarded  as  an  important 
opponent  by  the  heathen  world  in  the  fullness  of  its 
power. 

The  situation  changed  when,  with  the  destruction  of 
Jerusalem  and  the  complete  overthrow  of  the  Jewish 
State,  the  protecting  sheath  fell  off  from  Christianity ; 
when  it  could  no  lonsrer  remain  concealed  from  th« 


240  PRELIMINABY  SURVEY.  [book  a 

heathen  that  Christianity  was  a  tertium  genus,  a  third 
religion  by  the  side  of  Heathenism  ^od  Judaism;  and 
when  at  the  same  time,  about  the  beginning  of  the 
second  century,  this  religion  spread  with  such  power 
that  for  the  first  time  the  thought  occurred  to  Roman 
statesmen  that  it  might  become  dangerous  to  the  State. 
Now  a  definite  position  in  regard  to  it  could  no  longer 
be  avoided;  and  this  was  taken  in  the  rescript  of 
Trajan  to  Pliny,  in  which  the  Emperor  communicated 
exact  directions  respecting  legal  proceedings  against 
the  Christians.  This  introduces  the  second  period  of- 
the  contest,  for  the  edict  of  Trajan  remained  substan- 
tially the  law  for  the  following  century  and  a  half. 
The  effort  was  to  limit  the  growth  of  the  church  by  the 
use  of  the  established  laws  in  the  ordinary  methods 
of  judicial  transactions.  Meanwhile,  however,  Chris- 
tianity kept  on  growing ;  and  as  early  as  the  reign  of 
Marcus  Aurelius  it  had  become  evident  that  these 
means  for  its  suppression  were  inadequate.  Already 
they  had  to  be  employed  on  so  large  a  scale  that  the 
persecution,  in  many  places  at  least,  was  universal. 

Yet  all  this  was  only  preparatory  to  the  decisive 
conflict.  This  was  first  kindled  when  the  question 
arose,  on  what  should  the  State  be  founded,  on  a  re- 
stored Heathenism  with  anniliilation  of  Christianity, 
or  on  Christianity  with  an  abandonment  of  Heathen- 
ism. On  the  one  side,  the  revolution  maturing  within 
Heathenism  itself,  which  we  have  characterized  above 
as  its  restoration,  on  the  other,  the  magnificent  devel- 
opment of  the  Christian  church,  first  brought  the  op- 
posing parties  into  a  position  in  which  the  decisive 
battle  could  be  fought.  The  general  persecutions  be- 
gan with  Decius.    They  aimed  at  a  complete  suppref* 


OHAP   I.]    THE  THREE  PERIODS  OP  THE  CONFLICT.        241 

sion  of  Christianity.  All  previous  col  flic  ts  had  been, 
as  it  were,  single  combats.  Now  the  contest  raged 
along  the  whole  line  of  battle.  On  both  sides  all  the 
forces  at  command  were  brought  into  action.  Hea- 
thenism, now  become  fanatical,  put  for^h  its  last  stren- 
uous exertions,  and  the  contest  ended  only  with  the  full 
victory  of  the  Cross. 

II.   THE  PERSECUTION  UNDER  NERO. 

Not  much  more  than  three  decades  had  passed  away 
since  Pentecost,  the  birthday  of  the  Christian  Church, 
when  there  occurred  its  first  bloody  encounter  with  the 
Roman  State.  It  took  place,  characteristically  enough, 
in  Rome,  in  the  world's  chief  city,  and  no  less  a  person 
than  the  Emperor  gave  the  signal  for  a  contest  which 
was  to  bring  grave  anxieties  to  many  of  his  successors 
on  the  throne  of  the  Caesars,  until,  again  before  the 
gates  of  Rome,  at  the  Milvian  bridge,  the  legions  of 
the  first  Christian  Emperor  won,  under  the  sign  of  the 
long-persecuted  Cross,  the  decisive  and  final  victory. 

We  do  not  know  when  the  Gospel  was  first  preached 
In  Rome.  It  was  certainly  at  an  early  date.  The  inter- 
course between  Rome  and  the  East  was  very  active. 
N  amerous  vessels  came  from  Antioch  and  the  coast  of 
Asia  Minor.  And  on  one  of  them,  perhaps,  came  the 
first  converted,  and  for  us  nameless,  Jew  who  bore  to 
the  large  Jewish  communion  there  the  tidings  of  the 
Messiah  who  had  appeared,  the  crucified  and  risen 
Jesus.  The  earliest,  indistinct  trace  of  this  introduc- 
tion :f  Christianity  into  Rome  is  to  be  found  in  Sueto- 
nius s  report  of  the  expulsion  of  the  Jews,  which  is 
mentioned  also  in  Acts  xviii.  1.  Suetonius  alleges  as 
the  cause  of  this  expulsion  that  the  Jews  had  excited 


242  THE  PERSECCJTIO^   UNDBI    NERO.  [book  a 

constant  disturbance  at  the  instiga  4on  of  a  certain 
Ohrestus.  This  Chrestus,  whom  Suetonius  appears  to 
regard  as  a  leader  of  the  Jews  at  that  time,  can  only  be 
Christ,  as  the  verbal  form  Chrestus  not  unfrequently 
appears  instead  of  Christus.^  It  was  the  controversy 
whether  the  Messiah  had  already  appeared,  or  was  stDl 
JO  be  expected,  which  excited  the  Jews.  The  Roman 
Jewish  community  shared  in  the  disquiet  which  now 
disturbed  more  and  more  the  whole  Jewish  world 
Rejecting  the  true  Messiah  they  looked  all  the  more 
enthasiastically  for  a  Messiah  who  should  correspond  to 
their  own  expectations,  a  Messiah  who  should  break  in 
pieces  the  Roman  yoke.  Incited  by  the  Pharisaic  party 
fanaticism  flamed  higher  and  higher.  Already  in  the 
Holy  Land  the  clouds  were  gathering  for  the  fearful 
tempest  which  was  soon  to  break  upon  that  unhappy 
country,  and  the  expulsion  of  the  Jews  from  Rome  was 
a  sign  of  the  approaching  storm.  Although  they  soon 
returned,  they  were  henceforth  increasingly  suspected 
by  the  Romans,  and  whereas,  down  to  this  time,  it  had 
been  one  of  the  traditions  of  the  Julian  house  to  show 
them  especial  favor,  they  now  met  from  the  government 
many  tokens  of  displeasure. 

Meanwhile  the  number  of  the  Christians  increased 
perceptibly.  It  may  have  happened  that  many,  like 
Aquila  and  Priscilla,  departed  as  Jews  and  returned 
as  Christians.  Doubtless  the  two  persons  just  named, 
to  whom  Paul  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans  gives 
the  first  place  in  his  greetings,  ^o-rgely  contributed  to 
the  founding  and  enlargement  of  the  Roman  church. 
Paul,  on  Lis  arrival  in  the  city,  found  an  important 
church  already  in  existence,  and  through  his  efforts, 
while  he  lived  as  a  prisoner  two  years  in  a  hired  house; 


CTHAP.  I.]  THE  CHURCH  IN  ROME.  243 

it  considerably  increased.  It  could  no  lc:iger  remain 
wholly  concealed  from  the  heathen  as  a  distinct  com- 
munity, and  although  it  may  still  have  been  regarded 
as  a  fraction  of  Judaism,  yet  as  such  it  now  became 
of  note.  The  consequence,  indeed,  was  only  greater 
hatred  and  profounder  contempt.  The  Christians  ap- 
peared to  the  heathen  to  be  the  most  dangerous  fraction 
of  Judaism,  more  unreasonable  than  the  rest  of  the 
Jews,  more  hostile  to  the  whole  Roman  State,  to  all 
that  in  their  eyes  was  great,  noble  and  good.  Judaism 
was  still  a  national  religion,  Christianity  wholly  anti- 
national,  and  this  anti-national  religion  was  rapidly 
diffusing  itself  with  its  superstition  among  the  lower 
orders.  It  contradicted  every  thing  which  hitherto  had 
been  esteemed  sacred,  and  it  could  only  be  explained 
by  assuming  that  it  originated  in  hatred  to  all  that  is 
human.  The  Jews  who  were  hostile  to  Christianity 
stirred  up,  so  far  as  they  were  able,  the  ill-will  and 
hatred  of  the  heathen  towards  the  Christians,  and  it  is 
not  improbable  that  they,  above  all  others,  diffused  and 
kept  alive  the  horrible  reports  about  the  Christians 
which  even  thus  early  appeared  and  were  only  too 
readily  credited,  the  stories  of  the  abominations  which 
the  Christians  were  said  to  practise  in  their  secret 
assemblies,  their  eating  human  flesh,  and  their  licen- 
tiousness. 

The  hostile  feeling  of  the  people  toward  the  Chris^- 
tians  which  was  thus  excited  forms  the  background  of 
the  First,  the  Neronian  Persecution,  which,  as  before 
remarked,  was  no  persecution  in  the  latei  meaning  of  the 
word,  but  only  a  sudden,  fierce  outburst  t^f  hate,  though 
for  this  reason  all  the  more  bloody  and  horrible.^ 

On  the  night  of  the  eighteenth  of  July,  \.D.  64  (the 


244  THE  PERSECUTION  UNDER  NERO.  [book  n 

same  day  of  the  year  on  which  the  Gauls  had  once 
Bet  fire  to  the  eity,  a  fact  to  which  the  superstitious 
ascribed  especial  importance),  a  great  conflagration 
broke  out  in  Rome.  The  fire  originated  in  the  stalls 
near  the  Circus  Maximus,  in  which  many  of  the  Jews 
carried  on  their  traffic,  and  there,  where  combustibles  of 
different  kinds  were  accumulated,  it  found  its  first  sup- 
ply of  fuel.  Then  it  seized  the  Circus  with  its  wooden 
stagings  and  seats,  and  lashed  by  the  wind  spread  with 
astonishing  rapidity.  All  efforts  of  the  firemen  and 
soldiers,  who  tore  down  houses  with  engines  of  war,  to 
arrest  the  flames,  proved  abortive.  The  fire  raged  six 
days  and  nights,  until  it  was  finally  conquered  far  away 
from  where  it  began,  at  the  wall  of  Servius  TuUius  near 
the  gardens  of  Maecenas.  Nor  did  this  suffice.  The 
fire  broke  out  anew  in  another  quarter  of  the  city,  and 
raged  three  days  more.  Of  the  fourteen  "  regions  "  of 
the  city  only  four  entirely  escaped.  The  metropolis 
of  the  world  was  a  vast  heap  of  ruins.  The  calamity 
was  immeasurable. 

As  always  happens  at  such  times,  the  origin  of  the 
fire  was  the  object  of  the  most  eager  and  excited  in- 
quiry ;  and  among  the  people  the  suspicion  arose,  that 
Nero  himself  had  instigated  the  conflagration.  It  was 
asserted  that  men  had  been  seen  to  hurl  firebrands  into 
the  houses,  and  to  hinder  the  extinction  of  the  flames. 
Moreover  they  were  said  to  have  declared  that  they 
thus  acted  by  order  of  the  Emperor.  Others  believed 
that  they  had  recognized  these  incendiaries  as  his  ser- 
vants. Yet  others  narrated  that  Nero  himself  had 
exulted  in  the  splendor  of  the  sea  of  fire;  that  from 
the  tower  of  Maecenas,  he  had  been  a  spectator  of  the 
conflagration,  and  in  his  well-krown  stage  costume  had 
declaimed  over  it  a  poem  on  the  burning  of  Troy. 


CHAP.  1.]  THE  GREAT  FIRE  OP  ROME.  246 

It  is,  to-day,  hardly  possible  to  discover  whett.er  there 
was  any  truth  in  these  reports.  The  impartial  verdict 
of  history  must  be  that  it  is  at  least  very  improbable 
that  Nero  was  really  the  incendiary,  since  he  was  not  in 
Rome  at  all,  but  at  Antium,  and  did  not  return  till  the 
fire  threatened  to  attack  his  palace.  But  this  at  least 
is  certain,  the  reports  found  credence.  Nero  w&s  ao- 
cused  of  having  set  fire  to  the  world's  capital  for  his 
own  pleasure.  It  made  no  difference  that,  during  the 
conflagration,  he  hurried  to  and- fro  directing  and  ur- 
ging on  the  efforts  for  its  extinction,  or  that  after  the 
fire  he  cared  for  the  people  and  promoted  the  rebuilding 
of  the  city  in  the  most  munificent  manner.  The  sacri- 
fices too  which  he  offered  and  the  services  of  atonement 
and  consecration  which  he  instituted,  were  in  vain, 
The  rumor  held  its  ground  in  spite  of  all.  The  rage 
of  the  people  demanded  a  victim,  and  for  the  sacrifice 
the  Christians  were  chosen.  Nero,  says  Tacitus,  falsely 
charged  the  Christians  with  the  crime. 

It  need  not  be  wondered  at  that,  when  a  crime  had 
been  committed,  these  were  selected  to  expiate  it, 
though  they  were  tie  farthest  of  all  from  perpetrating 
the  crime.  They  were  hated  for  deeds  of  shame  im- 
puted to  them,  and  so  seemed  equally  capable  of  the 
crime  and  worthy  of  the  punishment.  Besides,  as  al- 
ready indicated,  suspicion  might  easily  be  made  to  fall 
on  the  Jews,  and  the  Christians  were  still  considered 
AS  Jews.  The  conflagration  had  begun  near  the  circi:^ 
where  the  Jews  had  their  shops,  and  the  quarters  in- 
habited by  them  were  among  the  few  parts  of  the  city, 
which  the  fire  spared.  But,  the  Christians  were  reg-ard- 
ed  as  the  worst  and  the  most  dangerous  among  the 
Jews,  because  their  numbers  constantly  increased.    By 


246  THE  PERSECUTION  UNDER  NERO.  [book  n 

making  them  suffer  death,  an  additional  advantage  would 
be  gained  in  getting  rid  of  them.  It  is  possible,  also, 
that  the  Jews,  being  enemies  of  the  Christians,  managed 
to  divert  suspicion  from  themselves,  to  those  whom  they 
so  much  hated.  Whether  Poppsea  Sabina,  Nero's  con- 
sort, and  the  friend  of  the  Jews,  had  a  part  in  it  or  not, 
cannot  be  decided.  We  have  no  information  on  the 
subject,  and  the  story  told  by  French  historians  of  an 
intrigue  of  Poppaea  against  Nero's  mistress  Acte,  whom 
they  suppose  to  have  been  a  Christian,  is  a  romance 
spun  from  sparse  and  wholly  inadequate  materials. 

However,  some  Christians  were  arrested  and  confessed 
— what  and  how,  we  are  not  told.  Perhaps  only  that 
they  were  Christians,  but  if  also  that  they  took  part 
in  kindling  the  fire,  then  those  who  confessed  it  were 
no  Christians,  or  torture  forced  untrue  confessions  from 
their  weakness.  In  the  narrative  of  Tacitus  there  is  a 
veil  over  this  matter,  and  this  veil  was  not  thrown  over 
it  by  the  historian,  but  before  him  by  those  who  exam- 
ined the  accused.  The  prefect,  Tigellinus,  who  was  at 
no  loss  for  the  witnesses  necessary  to  convict  Nero's 
innocent  wife  Octavia,  of  all  sorts  of  infamous  deeds, 
would  not  feel  any  embarrassment  in  this  case.  From 
the  testimony  of  those  first  arrested,  a  more  searching 
inquisition  was  instituted  for  the  Chriitians.  A  multi- 
tude of  arrests  were  made,  and  if  the  prisoners  could 
not  be  convicted  of  kindling  the  conflagration,  yet  as 
Tacitus  reports  with  icy  coldness,  they  could  be  con- 
demned for  hating  the  human  race.  That  was  sufficient ; 
of  such  people  the  worst  was  probable,  and  they  might 
be  treated  as  incendiaries  even  though  proof  of  the 
deed  was  not  to  be  had. 

There  followed  a  carnival  of  Iloodshed  such  as  Rome, 


•HAP.  I.]       CABNTVAL  OF  BLOODSHED  IN  BOMB.  247 

thoroughly  accustomed  as  it  then  was  to  murde* ,  had 
never  yet  seen.  It  was  not  enough  simply  to  put  the 
supposed  criminals  to  death,  for  of  couise  the  more 
cruelly  they  were  treated,  the  more  guilty  would  thej^ 
l^e  made  to  appear.  And  so  the  most  horrible  torments 
were  employed,  and  new  modes  of  execution  were  in- 
vented to  torture  them.  Those  who  were  crucified  and 
thus  imitated  their  Lord  in  their  death,  could  consider 
themselves  favored.  Others  were  sewed  up  in  the  skins 
of  wild  beasts  and  torn  to  pieces  by  dogs.  Still  others 
were  used  in  tragic  spectacles  in  the  manner  before 
mentioned.  We  have  a  scene  from  this  persecution 
recalled  by  the  words  of  Clement  of  Rome  in  his  Epistle 
to  the  Corinthians :  ^*  "  By  reason  of  jealousy,  women, 
Danaids  and  Dirces,  being  persecuted,  after  that  they 
had  suffered  cruel  and  unholy  insults,  safely  reached 
the  goal  in  the  race  of  faith,  and  received  a  noble 
reward,  feeble  though  they  were  in  body."  Christian 
women  personating  the  Danaids  and  Dirce  were  brought 
upon  the  stage,  and  there  certainly  happened  to  the 
one  who  represented  Dirce,  what,  according  to  the 
legend,  befell  her,  namely  that  she  was  bound  to  a 
raging  bull,  and  dragged  to  death.  But  the  evening 
was  the  climax  of  the  carnival.  The  populace  as- 
sembled in  Nero's  garden  to  behold  a  magnificent  dis- 
play. All  around,  huge  torches  were  blazing  to  dispel 
the  darkness.  They  were  Christians  who,  covered 
with  tow  and  coated  with  pitch,  and  then  bound  to 
stakes  of  pine,  were  lighted  and  burned  as  torches. 
Juvenal,  who  probably  was  an  eye  witness,  describes  * 
how 

<<  At  the  stake  they  shine, 
Who  stand  with  throat  transfixed  and  smoke  and  bum." 


248  THE  PERSECUTION  UNDER  NERO.  [book  n 

Among  tiem  Nero  drove  about,  fantastically  attired  aa 
a  cliarioteer,  and  the  people  shouted  with  delight. 

This  was  the  first  of  the  persecutions,  as  it  were  the 
fiery  portal,  through  which  the  Christians  entered  the 
arena  in  which  they  were  now  called  to  strive,  to  bleed, 
to  die  for  their  faith  during  two  and  a  half  centuries. 
This  first  persecution  was  no  carefully-planned  attempt 
to  suppress  Christianity,  founded  upon  civil  or  religious 
policy,  but  only  a  cruel  outburst  of  hatred,  which  Nero 
turned  to  account  in  his  own  interest.  Heathenism  had 
not  as  yet  learned  to  understand  Christianity  at  all.  It 
appeared  to  the  heathen  only  as  something  entirely 
strange,  utterly  opposed  to  every  existing  and  tradi- 
tional belief.  And  the  Christians  were  regarded  as 
men  who,  since  they  hated  every  thing  human,  deserved 
nothing  but  hatred,  in  dealing  with  whom  therefore 
any  thing  was  permissible,  and  all  considerations  of 
humanity  might  be  set  aside.  Now  Christians  might 
learn  what  awaited  them.  Heathenism  had  openly  de- 
clared by  action,  that  Christianity  was  not  to  be  tole- 
rated, that  it  was  to  be  annihilated  as  inhuman,  hostile 
to  the  human  race.  Now,  too,  might  the  heathen  know 
what  they  had  to  expect  from  the  Christians.  In 
patient  silence  they  endured  all.  The  Heroic  Age  of 
the  Christian  Church  had  begun,  a  heroism  not  of 
action,  but  of  a  suffering  mightier  than  all  deeds. 

It  is  certainly  significant  that  Nero,  the  most  blood- 
thirst;'  and  cruel  of  all  the  Emperors,  was  the  one  who 
heads  the  list  of  the  persecutors  of  the  Christians.  It 
is  not  difficult  to  understand  why  the  defenders  of 
Christianity  in  later  times  have  often  referred  to  the 
fact  that  a  Nero  began  the  persecutions,  nor  to  see  how 
the  legend  arose  that  Nero  was  Antichrist,  and  would 


CHAP.  I.]  CilRISTIANITY  AND  ANTI-CHRIST.  249 

return  in  that  character  at  the  end  of  the  wc/rld.  In- 
deed here  Christianity  and  Anti-Christianity  stood  con- 
fronting one  another  more  directly  than  they  will  again 
antagonize  till  the  end  of  time.  Here  we  see  the  Chris- 
tian church  still  in  its  original  simplicity  and  purity, 
still  under  the  guidance  of  apostles,  full  of  living  faith 
and  active  love  and  (in  all  the  weakness  and  imperfec- 
tion, which  even  then  were  not  absent)  as  yet  in  truth 
composed  of  saints  who  sought  holiness,  who  included 
all  in  their  brotherly  love  and  who  were  prepared  to 
endure  all  things  for  their  faith.  Opposed  to  these 
stood  the  Emperor,  stained  with  the  blood  of  many  inno- 
cent victims,  with  the  blood  of  his  brother,  of  his  wife, 
of  his  mother,  wallowing  in  licentiousness  and  the  in- 
dulgence of  every  lust;  and  a  degenerate  people,  a 
populace  clamoring  only  for  "  bread  and  games."  And 
while  the  Christians,  innocent,  but  accused  of  the  most 
disgraceful  crimes,  writhed  in  mortal  agony  and  blazed 
as  torches  at  the  stake,  the  Emperor  made  his  vanity  as 
an  actor  conspicuous,  pt  jaded  his  skill  as  a  charioteer, 
and  a  rabble  drunk  with  sensual  pleasure  saluted  him 
with  shouts  of  applause. 

In  the  metropolis  of  the  world  Heathenism  and  Chris- 
tianity then  for  the  first  time  came  into  collision.  The 
conflict  had  begun,  and  the  way  in  which  it  began  left 
no  doubt  on  which  side  th*» victory  would  be.  Of  those 
who  fell  at  that  time  we  know  only  two  by  name,  the 
great  apostles,  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul.  The  apostle  of 
the  Jews  and  the  apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  whose  paths 
often  led  them  far  apart  in  life,  in  death  united  theii 
praises  to  the  one  Lord  who  "wrought  effectually  in 
Peter  to  the  apostleship  of  the  circumcision  and  was 
mighty  in  Paul  toward  the  Gentiles  "  (Gal.  ii.  8).    Tho 


250  THE  PERSECUTION  UNDER  NERO.  [book  n 

rest^  whose  charred  and  mangled  remains  were  thrown 
into  a  common  pit,  after  the  carnival  of  murder  was 
past,  were  probably  from  the  lower  classes,  artisans  and 
slaves,  nameless  in  life  and  nameless  in  death.  But 
the  seer  beheld  their  souls  "  under  the  altar,  resting  for 
a  little  season  until  their  fellow-servants  also  and  their 
brethren,  that  should  be  killed,  as  they  were,  should  be 
fulfilled"  (Rev.  vi.  10,  11).  And  throughout  the  book 
of  Revelation  sounds  the  Hallelujah  over  the  victory 
these  nameless  ones  gained  by  their  death,  the  sure 
pledge  of  the  final  triumph. 


CHAP  PER  n. 

THE   CHRISTIANS   BEFORE   THE   TRIBUNALS. 

"  They  I  nil  deliver  you  up  to  the  councils,  and  they  will  scourge  you  in 
their  synagogues ;  and  ye  shall  he  brought  before  governors  and  kir,gs  fof 
my  sake,  for  a  testimony  against  them  and  the  Gentiles.'^  —  Matt.  x.  17, 18. 


Fearfully  as  the  Neronian  persecution  raged  in 
Rome  itself,  it  seems  to  have  been  principally  confined 
to  the  capital.^  Yet  it  is  not  improbable  that  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  Emperor  himself  attacked  the  confes- 
sors of  the  new  faith,  drew  attention  to  them  where 
they  were  prominent  in  the  provinces,  and  that  'ss.  a  few 
cases  the  local  officials  may  have  proceeded  against 
them.  At  least  we  hear  of  a  martyr  Antipas  in  Perga- 
mnm  (Rev.  ii.  13),  whose  martyrdom  probably  belongs 
to  this  period.  The  persecution  was  like  a  sudden 
itorm  which  soon  spent  its  fury.  Those  who  escaped 
the  clutches  of  Nero's  minions  probably  remained  in 
hiding  for  a  time  and  then  went  back  to  their  former 
positions,  while  some  who  had  fled  the  city  were  per- 
mitted to  return  without  molestation.  Tacitus  indeed 
expressly  tells  us  that  the  fate  of  the  Christians  slain 
by  Nero  awakened  sympathy  for  them  (though  tiiey 

281 


252  TRAJAN'S  LEGISLATION.  [book  n. 

deserved  to  suffer  the  worst  of  punishments),  on  the 
ground  that  they  were  destroyed  not  for  the  public 
good,  but  to  glut  the  cruelty  of  a  single  man.  The 
only  results  of  Nero's  action  were  that  the  heroism  of 
the  martyrs  strengthened  the  faith  of  the  survivors, 
and  the  example  of  the  dead  stimulated  the  zeal  of  the 
living.  The  spread  of  Christianity  was  not  hindered 
but  rather  helped  by  this  event. 

Not  until  the  reign  of  Domitian  do  we  again  hear  of 
persecutions.  Primarily,  of  course,  these  had  the  Jews 
for  their  object.  After  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem 
and  of  the  Temple,  they  were  obliged  to  pay  their  for- 
mer temple-dues,  the  Didrachma,  to  the  Capitoline  Jupi- 
ter, and  this  poll-tax  was  often  collected  in  a  harsh  and 
cruel  manner,  because  some  Jews  refused  to  pay  a  trib- 
ute to  a  heathen  deity .^  In  the  conflicts  which  thus 
arose,  the  Christians,  especially  the  Jewish  Christians, 
were  often  involved,  for  the  heathen  had  not  yet  learned 
to  distinguish  definitely  between  Jews  and  Christians. 
We  learn  also  that  some  were  condemned  for  defection 
from  the  religion  of  the  State  to  Judaism,  or,  as  the 
accusation  sometimes  reads,  for  atheism.'  The  Empe- 
ror condemned  even  his  own  cousin.  Flavins  Clemens 
and  his  wife  Flavia  Domitilla.  Flavins  Clemens  was 
executed  soon  after  the  close  of  A.  D.  96,  the  year  of 
his  consulate,  and  Flavia  Domitilla  was  banished  to 
the  island  Pandateria.  The  historian  Suetonius  calls 
Clemens  a  man  "  of  the  most  despicable  indolence."  * 
Many  to-day  regard  it  as  clear  that  the  accusation  of 
being  a  Christian  is  covered  by  this  expressioD,  and 
therefore  that  Clemens  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  martyr. 
But  the  ancient  authorities  show  no  knowledge  of  this, 
»nd  it  must  appear  very  doubtful,  that,  if  the  Church 


.  n.]  THE  TIME  OF  DOMITI^N.  253 

could  really  count  among  the  martyrs  of  that  day  a 
man  of  consular  rank,  it  could  have  passed  so  com- 
pletely out  of  remembrance.^  In  any  case  we  here  find 
the  very  earliest  traces  that  Christianity  had  begun  to 
gain  a  foothold  among  the  higher  classes. 

For  the  first  time  also  there  seems  to  have  sprung  up 
in  the  ruling  circles  a  certain  anxiety  on  account  of 
Christianity.  Hegesippus  ^  informs  us,  that  Domitian 
^d  heard  there  were  still  living  in  Palestine  relatives 
.)f  Jesus,  descendants  of  the  royal  house  of  David, 
^e  was  terrified  at  the  news,  and  summoned  them  — 
t.vo  grandsons  of  Judas,  the  brother  of  Jesus  —  before 
hxn.  But,  when  they  told  him,  that,  togelLier,  they 
pa.38ssed  only  an  estate  of  the  value  of  nine  thousand 
der>:rii  (about  $1,800)  and  cultivated  it  themselves,  as 
tbey  proved  by  showing  their  homy  hands ;  when  they 
tnstiii'^d  on  his  asking  about  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  that 
it  war  'aot  of  this  world,  and  would  not  come  till  the 
eiid  of  iiU  things,  the  Emperor  dismissed  them  without 
doling  t^;v:m  any  harm. 

The  pxV'secutions  under  Domitian  were  very  short, 
and  Ner^'^i  Lis  successor  recalled  those  who  had  been 
banished  arvl  restored  to  them  their  confiscated  posses- 
sions, in  pa^t  C^om  his  private  purse. 

With  the  beginning  of  the  second  century  there  came 
a  great  change  in  the  situation  of  the  Christians.  The 
sepai'ation  of  Christianity  from  Jur  aism  was  completed 
80  as  to  be  recognized  even  by  heathen  eyes.  The 
iestru^tion  of  Jerusalem  put  an  end  to  the  outward 
exisbenoe  of  the  Jewish  nationality.  The  temple  fell, 
the  sacrifices  ceased.  And  yet,  without  a  temple,  with* 
out  a  daily  sacrifice,  without  a  visible  centre,  Judaism, 
the  most  hardy  of  national  religions,  managed  to  pre 


254  TRAJAN'S  LEGISLATION.  [book  n 

serve  its  existence,  even  after  the  insunection  undez 
Bar  Cocheba  had  been  quenched  in  blood,  and,  thereby, 
the  Jews'  last  hope  of  regaining  their  old  position  had 
been  destroyed.  Their  religion  now  became  consoli- 
dated into  the  real  Judaism,  in  essentials  such  as  we 
see  it  to-day.  Spread  abroad  over  the  earth,  without  a 
local  centre,  or  the  bond  which  had  existed  hitherto  in 
the  temple  service,  Judaism  henceforth  was  united  only 
by  the  common  Law,  and  by  the  common  doctrine  con- 
tained in  the  newly  collected  Talmud.  Thus  it  became 
completely  separated  from  Christianity.  Talmudic  Ju- 
daism severed  all  the  connections  which  had  hitherto 
bound  it  to  Christianity.  Henceforth  three  times  6very 
day  in  the  synagogues  was  invoked  the  awful  curse  on 
the  renegades,  the  Christians.  It  came  to  be  a  rare 
exception  for  a  Jew  to  go  over  to  Christianity,  while 
the  heathen  thronged  into  the  Church  in  ever  increas- 
ing numbers.  The  remainder  of  the  Jewish  Christians 
dwindled  away  or  disappeared  entirely  in  the  churches 
of  heathen  Christians,  or  turned  heretics  and  were  cut  off 
from  the  Church.  The  Church  now  found  the  field  for 
its  work  and  growth  almost  exclusively  in  the  heathen 
world,  and  became  composed  entirely  of  Gentile  Chris- 
tians. It  was  therefore  no  longer  possible  to  confound 
the  Christians  with  the  Jews.  Henceforth  they  were 
recognized  by  the  heathen  as  a  genus  tertium,  as  they 
were  often  called  —  a  third  party  beside  Heathenism 
and  Judaism. 

Thus  Christianity  lost  the  protection  which  it  had 
hitherto  enjoyed  as  a  supposed  Jewish  sect.  Like  a 
young  plant,  it  now  showed  itself,  free  from  the  sheath 
which  had  shielded  it,  and  exposed  to  every  storm. 
From  the  iroment  when  Christianity  was  recognized  aa 


<MAF.  II.]  PLINY'S  LETTER  TO  TBAJAN.  266 

a  separate  religion,  it  became  an  illegal  leligion,  and 
was  attacked  by  the  severe  Roman  laws  against  illicit 
societies.  And  though  the  change  did  not  at  first  pro- 
duce its  full  effect,  this  was  because  the  State  had  not 
yet  proclaimed  its  attitude  towards  the  new  religion, 
and  so  the  method  of  procedure  lay  entirely  within 
the  arbitration  of  the  several  governors,  some  of  whom 
were  already  beginning  judicial  action  against  the  Chris- 
tians, while  others  ignored  them.  The  treatment  the 
Christians  experienced  was  more  or  less  severe  accord- 
ing to  the  personal  leanings  of  the  judge,  no  general 
rule  having  been  made.  But  it  soon  became  necessary 
that  one  should  be  given.  Christianity  hitherto  little 
known,  daily  gained  in  prominence.  In  some  provinces 
the  defection  from  the  religion  of  the  State  was  so 
visible,  that  the  temples  were  deserted  and  the  meat  of 
the  sacrifices  found  no  buyers.  During  Trajan's  reign 
the  rage  of  the  people  broke  out  against  the  Christians 
in  some  places.  Spurred  on  by  the  priests  or  roused  to 
fanaticism  by  some  special  occurrence,  the  mob  de- 
manded severer  penalties  against  the  hated  race,  or 
threatened  to  administer  them  with  its  own  hand. 
Mob  violence  could  not  be  tolerated,  and  thus  it  be- 
came necessary  to  make  rules  for  the  treatment  of  the 
Christians. 

The  immediate  occasion  was  supplied  by  a  letter 
which  Pliny  the  Younger,  Proconsul  of  Bithynia,  ad- 
dressed to  the  Emperor  in  the  year  A.D.  Ill  or  112.'^ 
When  Pliny  came  into  the  province,  he  was  in  great 
perplexity  how  to  treat  the  Christians,  who  were  espe- 
cially numerous  there.  Christians  of  both  sexes,  and 
Df  all  ages  and  ranks,  appeared  before  his  tribunal. 
Was  he  to  take  into  account  age,  sex,  and  rank,  or  to 


256  TRAJAJ^'S  LEGISLATION.  [book  r 

treat  all  alike  ?  Was  he  to  pardon  those  who  recanted, 
or  should  the  renunciation  of  the  faith  be  of  no  avail 
to  one  who  had  been  a  Christian  ?  Was  the  name  of 
Christian,  the  mere  fact  that  a  man  was  a  Christian, 
enough  ground  for  condemnation,  even  when  no  crimes 
could  be  proved  against  him,  or  should  only  any  crimes, 
that  might  be  connected  with  the  Christian  name,  re- 
ceive punishment  ?  At  first  Pliny  made  a  practice  cf 
asking  the  accused,  if  they  were  Christians.  When 
they  confessed  it,  he  repeated  his  question,  adding  the 
threat  of  punishment  with  death.  If  they  remained 
stubborn,  he  had  them  executed ;  for  their  stubbornness 
alone,  without  regard  to  other  considerations,  seemed 
to  him  to  merit  punishment.  But  soon  other  cases 
came  up,  and  brought  him  into  still  greater  perplexity. 
Anonymous  accusations  against  the  Christians  were 
sent  to  him.  Ought  he  to  receive  them?  Some  of 
those  whom  he  arrested  and  questioned,  denied  that 
they  were  Christians,  others  said  they  had  been  Chris- 
tians, but  were  now  no  longer  such.  In  order  to 
demonstrate  the  truth  of  this  assertion,  he  had  images 
of  the  Emperor  and  of  the  Gods  brought  in,  and  com- 
manded the  accused  to  offer  incense  and  to  curse  Christ, 
for  he  had  heard  that  nothing  could  persuade  real  Chris- 
tians to  do  so.  When  the  accused  obeyed  the  commana 
he  set  them  at  liberty.  The  result  of  his  further  in- 
quiries as  well  as  what  he  learned  about  the  new  reli- 
gion from  some  deaconesses,  questioned  under  torture, 
did  not  satisfy  him.  He  discovered  only  a  boundless 
superstition :  that  they  came  U  gether  on  an  appointed 
day,  to  sing  hymns  to  Christ  as  a  God,  and  that  they 
bound  themselves  by  an  oath,  to  do  no  evil,  but  to 
SToid  evil,  theft  and  adultery,  and  to  deceive  no  man, 


rmxr.  n.]  TRAJAN'S  EDICT.  267 

Then  it  had  been  their  custom  to  separate,  and  to  re- 
assemble in  the  evening  at  a  meal,  but  an  entirely  inno- 
cent meal.  Yet  they  had  discontinued  this  latter,  since 
the  promulgation  of  the  imperial  edict  forbidding  noc- 
turnal assemblies.  Plainly  the  Christians  in  order  to 
show  their  obedience  to  law,  had  given  up  the  Love- 
Feast,  hitherto  held  in  the  evening.  Thus  Pliny  was 
at  a  loss  what  to  do,  yet  something  must  be  done,  for 
the  superstition  spread  like  a  conflagration,  and  had 
already  penetrated  from  the  towns  into  the  country 
while  on  the  other  side  there  seemed  to  be  hope  that, 
if  with  firmness  mildness  were  combined,  and  pardon 
extended  to  those  who  recanted,  the  superstition  might 
be  extirpated. 

The  Emperor  in  his  answer  approved  in  the  main  the 
conduct  of  Pliny  thus  far,  and  without  attempting  to 
give  directions  for  all  cases,  issued  the  following  orders 
for  the  future.  The  Christians  were  not  to  be  sought 
out,  yet  when  accused  and  convicted,  they  must  be 
punished.  Those  however  who  denied  that  they  were 
Christians,  and  proved  it  by  sacrificing  to  the  gods  were 
to  be  pardoned  by  reason  of  their  recantation,  even 
though  there  might  be  suspicion  that  they  had  been 
Christians  in  the  past.  Trajan  closes  by  saying  that 
anonymous  accusations  were  not  to  be  received  at  all, 
because  that  would  set  a  bad  example  and  be  unworthy 
of  the  age. 

This  imperial  edict  regulated  the  treatment  of  the 
Christians  for  more  than  a  century.  We  cannot  deny 
that,  considered  from  the  Roman's  point  of  view,  it  does 
not  belie  the  clemency  and  love  of  justice  generally 
attributed  to  Trajan.  Christianity  seemed  to  him  a 
Btubborn  opposition  to  the  laws  of  the  Empire,  and  an 


258  TEAJAN'S  LEGISLATION.  [book  n 

such  it  could  not  be  left  unpunislied.  Yet  he  not  onl^ 
ordered  the  strict  observance  of  the  forms  of  law  in 
dealing  with  it,  but  also  insisted  that  all  unnecessary 
harshness  and  cruelty  be  avoided.  He  treated  the 
Christians  as  men  who  had  been  led  astray  and  whom 
he  was  trying  by  merciful  measures  to  induce  to  return. 
Trajan  indulged  the  hope  that  by  such  means  it  would 
be  possible  to  put  an  end  to  the  pernicious  error,  if  not 
at  once  yet  gradually  at  least.  But  sagacious  as  this 
decision  and  action  might  appear  from  the  statesman's 
point  of  view,  they  were  none  the  less  mistaken.  The 
political  and  judicial  point  of  view  is  entirely  insuffi- 
cient for  the  consideration  of  this  subject.  His  edict 
contained  a  hidden  contradiction,  which  in  time  must 
come  to  light  and  necessitate  additional  legislation 
Further  —  and  this  was  the  principal  mistake  —  the 
Emperor  had  formed  no  adequate  idea  of  the  strength 
of  the  faith  with  which  he  had  thus  begun  a  contest 
before  his  tribunals. 

Even  in  the  ancient  Church  the  opinions  expressed 
concerning  the  Emperor  Trajan  differed  widely.  Some 
regarded  him  as  the  persecutor  and  some  as  the  pro- 
tector of  the  Church ;  his  edict  was  by  the  one  party 
viewed  as  a  sword,  by  the  other  as  a  shield.  In  truth  it 
was  both.  It  was  an  edict  of  persecution,  for  here  for 
the  first  time  it  was  distinctly  laid  down  that  to  be  a 
Christian  was  in  itself  a  capital  crime.  Henceforth  if 
any  Christian  were  accused  before  the  tribunal  of  being 
such,  capital  punishment  was  executed  upon  him  solely 
on  account  of  his  Christianity,  though  no  other  mis- 
deeds could  be  proved  against  him;  and  this  punish- 
ment could  be  avoided  only  by  denying  his  faith.  But 
on  the  other  ^land  the  Christian  was  by  no  means  an 


CHAP,  n.]  POSITION  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  259 

outlaw,  a  regular  indictment  and  a  judicial  procesa  were 
necessary  for  his  condemnation.  The  edict  was  thus  a 
protection,  to  the  extent  that  Christians  could  be  pun- 
ished only  by  way  of  a  legal  trial,  so  that  the  law  gave 
to  them  the  same  protection  as  it  did  to  criminals. 
More,  indeed,  for  the  governors  were  forbidden  to  admit 
anonymous  accusations  or  to  seek  out  the  Christians  by 
means  of  the  police.  Thus  Christians  might  remain  in 
peace  so  long  as  no  accuser  came  forward. 

But  here  an  internal  contradiction  appears  in  the 
edict  itself.  Tertullian  indeed  had  a  right  to  exclaim : ' 
"  What  a  self-contradictory  sentence  !  He  forbids  their 
being  sought  out,  as  if  they  were  innocent,  and  com- 
mands that  they  be  punished  as  if  they  were  guilty.'* 
There  was  a  yet  greater  contradiction  in  punishing 
those  who  confessed  that  they  were  Christians,  while 
those  who  denied  their  faith  by  bringing  a  sacrifice  to 
the  heathen  gods  were  to  be  set  at  liberty.  For  if  it 
was  a  crime  to  be  a  Christian,  it  was  also  a  crime  to 
have  been  a  Christian.  Would  a  thief,  for  instance,  be 
liberated  on  his  mere  promise  to  steal  no  more  ?  Yet 
the  Emperor  cannot  be  reproached  with  this  inconsist- 
ency. His  aim  was  to  suppress  Christianity.  On  that 
point  the  edict  betrays  no  vacillation,  and  contains  no 
contradiction.  The  being  a  Christian  was  clearly  des- 
ignated as  a  crime  which  was  to  be  suppressed.  But 
he  cherished  the  hope  of  succeeding  by  milder  measures, 
and  of  reaching  thereby  with  all  the  more  certainty  his 
object,  the  suppression  of  Christianity.  Because  a  few 
had  shown  themselves  ready  for  recantation,  it  was  sup- 
posed that  the  majority  could  be  persuaded  t)  it  in  like 
manner,  while  the  few  who  remained  stubborn  could  be 
put  out  of  the  wa3\     The  calculation  was  mistaken, 


260  TEAJAN'S  LEGISLAIION.  [book  u 

because  the  self-sacrificing  heroism  of  the  Clristians 
was  not  taken  into  account ;  because  it  was  not  known 
that  "the  blood  of  the  martyrs  is  the  seed  of  the 
church."  ^ 

In  spite  of  the  leniency  of  the  edict  the  position  of 
the  Christians  was  still  one  of  great  difficulty.  It  ia 
true  that  wholesale  executions  did  not  take  place.  The 
legends  of  such  executions  are  legends,  and  transfer  to 
this  period  what  really  belonged  to  a  later  age.  We 
have  even  reason  to  believe  that  the  number  who  in 
those  times  died  for  their  faith  was  comparatively  small. 
But  the  sword  hung,  so  to  speak,  every  moment  ove^ 
their  heads.  They  could  not  hide  their  faith  without 
denying  it.  Every  occasion  called  for  a  confession,  and 
out  of  every  confession  an  accusation  might  grow. 
Nothing  more  was  needed  to  bring  a  Christian  to  trial, 
than  that  some  one  from  religious  zeal  or  private  spite 
should  inform  against  him.  Instances  are  given  which 
show  that  the  conduct  of  the  Christians  towards  the 
images  of  the  gods,  or  at  public  festivals  gave  occasion 
for  accusation ;  that  workmen  informed  against  their 
fellows,  and  men  against  their  wives. 

A  heathen  woman  had  become  converted,  and,  as  a 
Christian,  renounced  her  former  voluptuous  life.  After 
trying  in  vain  to  win  her  husband  over  to  the  faith,  and 
since  on  the  other  hand  he  used  every  means  to  draw 
her  back  into  his  godless  life,  no  course  was  open  to 
her,  but  to  separate  herself  from  him.  Then  her  hus- 
band accused  her  of  being  a  Christian.  She  confessed 
and  suffered  for  her  faith.^^  Well-disposed  governors 
exercised  extreme  leniency,  but  with  definite  acbiisa- 
tions  they  could  not  do  otherwise  than  carry  out  the 
existing  laws.    And  when  the  Christians  had  enjoyed 


CHAP   n.]  DANGERS  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  261 

tranquillity  for  a  time,  any  day  might  bring  a  governor 
of  a  different  disposition  who  would  act  with  the  great- 
est severity.  In  some  places  the  rage  of  the  multitude 
was  kindled  against  the  Christians.  At  the  festivals  of 
their  gods,  and  at  the  games,  incited  by  the  priests  or 
by  wandering  magicians,  and  intoxicated  with  sensual 
pleasure,  the  heathen  would  demand  the  death  of  the 
Christians.  In  great  calamities  the  Christians  were  said 
to  have  aroused  the  anger  of  the  gods.  "The  Chris- 
tians to  the  lions !  "  was  then  the  cry.  For  indeed  the 
decree  of  the  Emperor  had  opened  the  way  for  the  pop- 
ular fury,  though  on  the  other  hand  it  did  not  satisfy 
the  people's  hatred  of  the  Christians,  nourished  as  that 
was  by  the  most  horrible  rumors.  The  Christians  were 
branded  by  the  decree  as  those  who  had  no  right  to 
exist,  as  enemies  of  the  State  and  of  the  gods ;  and  it 
was  difficult  to  deny  to  the  people,  when  they  earnestly 
demanded  it,  the  death  of  these  enemies  of  the  gods  and 
of  the  State.  Such  was  the  state  of  things  under  Tra- 
jan and  his  successors.  Persecution  blazed  up  fre- 
quently in  different  places,  sometimes  more  sometimes 
less  severe,  sometimes  fanned  by  the  severity  of  the 
governor,  at  others  by  the  rage  of  the  people,  sometimes 
confined  within  the  fixed  forms  of  judicial  procedure, 
while  elsewhere  these  forms  gave  way  to  the  pressure 
exerted  by  an  excited  mob. 

Two  facts  stand  out  clearly  from  the  history  of  this 
period.  First,  that  persecution  had  not  the  power  to 
stop  the  growth  of  the  Church.  Though  a  few  were 
driven  back  by  fear,  though  weaklings  became  desert- 
ers, yet  on  the  whole,  the  Christians  showed  themselves 
(to  borrow  Tertullian's  expression  ^^)  "  a  people  always 
prepared  to  die."    Among  the  prominent  persons  who 


262  TRAJAN'S  LEGISLATION  [b<m     a 

suffered  martyrdom  during  this  period,  the  name  of 
two,  Simeon,  bishop  of  Jerusalem,  and  Ignatius,  bii>*op 
of  Antioch,  have  been  handed  down,  who  met  laeir 
death  in  the  reign  of  Trajan.  The  former  is  sail  to 
have  been  a  relative  of  Jesus,  a  son  of  Mary  the  wife 
of  Cleophas  (John  xix.  25),  and  to  have  been  crucified 
when  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  old ;  the  latter 
was  sent  to  Rome  and  exposed  to  the  wild  beasts. 
Several  martyrs  are  also  mentioned  who  suffered  in  the 
reign  of  Hadrian.  The  sinister  spirit  which  over- 
shadowed the  Emperor  towards  the  end  of  his  stormy 
life,  and  instigated  him  to  deeds  of  cruelty  in  his  last 
years,  seems  to  have  led  him  into  some  isolated  acts  of 
persecution,  though  he  appears  to  have  been,  apart  from 
these,  indifferent  to  the  Christians,  whom  he  regarded 
as  equally  foolish  and  ridiculous  with  other  fanatics.  In 
lils  reign,  Telesphorus,  bishop  of  Rome,  suffered  mar- 
tyrdom; the  first  time,  so  far  as  we  know,  that  a 
Roman  bishop  fell  a  victim.*^ 

History  narrates  also  the  mart3rrdom  of  a  mother 
called  Symphorosa,  which  resembles  that  of  the  mother 
of  the  Maccabees.  Her  husband  Getulius,  and  her 
brother  Amatius  had  already  been  executed  as  martyrs, 
when  to  her  and  to  her  seven  sons  was  given  the  choice : 
to  sacrifice,  or  to  die.  She  remained  firm  and  answered : 
"  You  think  then  to  turn  me  by  fear,  but  I  desire  only 
to  rest  in  peace  with  my  husband  Getulius,  whom  you 
have  put  to  death  for  Christ's  name's  sake."  She  was 
drowned,  and  then  her  seven  soi  s  one  after  the  other 
suffered  death  in  various  ways.^^  In  Asia  the  procon- 
sul Arrius  Antoninus  (afterwards  the  Emperor  Anto- 
ninus Pius)  had  already  condemned  many  Christians, 
when  one  day  the  Christians  appeared  in  such  numbers 


CHAP,  n.]  ANTONINUS  AND  HADRIAN.  263 

before  his  judgment-seat,  that  he  recognized  the  impos- 
gibility  of  punishing  thei»  all.  He  arrested  some  from 
among  them  and  dismissed  the  rest  with  the  words: 
"  Miserable  men,  if  ye  desire  to  die,  have  ye  not  ropes 
and  precipices ! "  ^*  During  the  reign  of  Antoninus 
Pius  also,  the  Christians  were  now  and  then  molested. 

Secondly,  it  is  plain  that  this  judicial  action  against 
the  Christians  became  more  and  more  insufficient.  As 
the  number  of  the  Christians  increased,  the  fury  of  the 
people  increased  also,  and  the  well-meant  attempts  of 
the  several  governors,  and  even  of  the  Emperor  himself, 
to  confine  the  persecution  strictly  within  the  limits  of 
judicial  action  were  unsuccessful.  There  is  extant  a 
rescript  of  Hadrian  addressed  to  the  Proconsul  of  Asia, 
in  which  he  condemns  a  tumultuous  rising  against  the 
Christians,  which  had  taken  place,  and  insists  upon  a 
regular  judicial  process  for  the  future^  When  those  in 
the  provinces  brought  an  accusation  against  the  Chris- 
tians, they  must  themselves  appear  before  the  judgment 
seat  and  prove  their  accusation,  but  no  attention  was 
to  be  paid  to  mere  petitions  and  popular  clamor,  lest 
the  innocent  should  be  punished  and  informers  should 
have  opportunities  for  extortion.^*  Conscientious  gov- 
ernors acted  henceforth  on  tliis  rescript.  Vespronius 
Candidus  set  a  Christian  at  liberty,  saying,  that  it  was 
illegal  to  yield  to  the  clamor  of  the  masses.  Another 
governor,  Pudens,  acted  in  the  same  way  when  he  saw 
from  the  protocol  transmitted  to  him,  that  the  accused 
had  been  set  upon  with  tumult  and  threats,  and  ex- 
plained that  he  could  not  legally  hear  the  case  without 
a  special  accuser.  And  yet  Antoninus  Pius  had  to 
issue  new  rescripts  of  like  tenor.  There  arose  in  Greece 
ft  severe  persecution  in  which  Publius,  the  bishop  of 


264  INFLUENCE  OP  CHRISTIANITY.  [boo*  d 

Athens,  lost  his  life.^^  The  Emperor  sent  rescripts  tr 
Larissa  and  to  Thessalonica,  in  which  he  forbade  the 
introduction  of  new  measures  in  the  treatment  of  the 
Christians,  and  ordered  that  the  limits  prescribed  by 
Trajan's  edict  should  be  strictly  observed."  And  in  all 
probability  this  was  generally  done  in  the  time  of  Anto 
ninus  Pius.  His  reign  was  peaceful  and  happy,  and 
there  were  no  special  events  to  stir  up  the  anger  of  the 
people.  But  the  case  was  different  under  Marcus  Aure- 
lius.  Though  it  has  been  truly  said  that  under  the 
Antonines  the  stream  of  Roman  history  appears  yet 
once  more  as  a  calm  and  peaceful  lake,  and  then  swiftly 
shoots  towards  the  precipice,  yet  in  the  time  of  Marcus 
Aurelius  we  become  aware  that  the  waters  begin  to 
flow  more  rapidly.  We  are  come  to  an  epoch  in  Roman 
history,  which  also  marks  an  epoch  in  the  conflict  of 
Christianity.         • 

II.      THE   INCREASING   INFLUENCE   OF   CHRISTIANITT. 

If  we  glance  at  the  position  of  Christianity,  we  shall 
soon  realize  what  progress  it  had  made.  It  is  true  that 
all  trustworthy  data  for  even  an  approximate  estimate 
of  the  number  of  Christians  are  wanting.  Estimates 
like  those  of  Tertullian  —  that  the  Christians  of  a 
single  province  were  more  numerous  than  the  whole 
Roman  army,  which  would  make  a  total  of  about  nine 
million  Christians  in  the  Empire,  or  that  Carthage  would 
have  to  be  decimated  if  all  the  Christians  were  to  be 
punished  ^^  —  are  worthless,  being  mere  rhetoric.  The 
Christians  wera  certainly  not  nearly  so  numerous  at 
that  time,  and  their  numbers  probably  varied  a  great 
deal  in  different  countries.  In  the  East  the  Church 
had  made  much  greater  progress  than  in  the  West.     By 


CHAP,  n.]  THE  APOLOGISTS.  266 

this  time  it  had  almost  become  the  national  church  in 
Casterii  Syria.  There  Christianity  first  won  a  throne 
n  Abgar  Bar  Manu  (A.D.  152-187)  whose  coins  first 
jore  the  sign  of  the  cross.  It  need  scarcely  be  said 
ihat  elsewhere  the  Christians  formed  a  decided  minor- 
ity, decreasing  towards  the  West.  But  never  again 
were  they  such  a  despised  handful  of  the  uneducated 
lower  classes,  as  they  had  been  at  the  beginning  of  the 
ce]ltur3^  They  could  already  count  the  illustrious,  the 
rich,  and  the  well-educated  among  their  associates.  In 
the  time  of  Hadrian,  Aristides  and  Quadratus  the  phi- 
losophers went  over  to  Christianity.  Later  followed 
Justin,  who  had  studied  the  heathen  philosophy  of  all 
the  schools,  the  orator  Miltiades,  the  Roman  lawyer 
Minucius  Felix,  the  learned  and  eloquent  Athenagoraa 
and  the  Stoic  Pantsenus  "  famous  for  erudition." 

The  conflict  with  Heathenism  now  began  in  litera- 
ture also.  Christianity  had  hitherto  spread  mainly  in 
obscurity,  and  its  adherents,  —  "a  dumb  folk  babbling 
only  in  corners,"  ^^  as  the  heathen  mockingly  called 
them,  —  had  defended  themselves  simply  by  silence  and 
endurancCc  But  now  men  schooled  in  classic  learning 
and  mighty  in  eloquence  come  forward  in  their  writings 
as  the  champions  of  Christianity.  The  first  apologetic 
essays  belong  to  the  reign  of  Hadrian,  and  there  is 
extant  from  the  time  of  the  Antonines  a  rich  apolo- 
getic literature,  which  shows  what  advances  Chris- 
lianity  had  made  in  that  direction.  Justin  appeals 
tc  the  pious  Emperor  Antoninus  and  to  the  truth- 
loving  Marcus  Aurdius,  his  adopted^  son,  in  order 
to  demand  from  the  rulers'  piety  and  love  of  truth 
justice  for  "  the  unjustly  hated  and  persecuted."  *  Hia 
second  Apology  was  addressed  to  the  senate  and  to  tho 


266  INFLUENCE  OP  CHRISTIANITY.  [book  n. 

whole  Roman  people,  with  a  boldness  regardless  of  con- 
sequences, although  he  knew  and  foretold  that  this 
defence  of  a  just  cause  would  bring  death  upon  him. 
Others,  like  Athenagoras,  appeal  in  a  similar  manner 
to  the  Emperors  or  directly  to  the  public,  for  the  Apolo- 
gies addressed  to  the  rulers  were  intended  for  a  larger 
audience.  To  the  latter  class  belong  the  treatise  ad- 
dressed to  Autolycus  by  Theophilus  of  Antioch,  and  the 
beautiful  dialogue  Octavius  by  Minucius  Felix,  in  which 
Christianity  was  for  the  first  time  defended  in  the  Latin 
language.^^  The  former  aimed  at  altering  the  attitude 
of  the  rulers,  the  latter  rather  at  the  conversion  of  their 
heathen  readers. 

The  first  task  of  the  Apologists  was  to  refute  the 
charges  which  were  made  against  Christianity ;  to  prove 
that  the  Christians  were  not  atheists  as  they  were  a© 
cused  of  being,  nor  guilty  of  such  abominations  as  the 
rumors  of  Thyestean  banquets  and  CEdipodean  alliances 
imputed  to  them,  nor  finally  enemies  of  the  Emperor 
and  the  State.  Next  in  importance  was  the  removal  of 
the  general  prejudice  which  the  heathen  entertained 
against  the  new  faith.  This  could  be  accomplished 
only  by  making  the  heathen  acquainted  with  the  nature 
of  Christianity,  for  most  of  their  prejudices  arose  from 
ignorance.  Therefore  the  Apologists  clearly  explain 
the  doctrines  and  principles,  the  customs  and  usages, 
and  the  whole  moral  aspect  of  Christianity.  They  urge 
in  support  of  its  truth  the  fulfillment  of  prophecy,  thy 
excellence  of  its  doctrines,  the  influence  of  the  faith  on 
the  lives  of  its  adherents,  their  purity  of  conduct,  theii 
activity  in  works  of  love,  their  silent  endurance  and 
the  heroism  with  which  they  met  death. 

At  this  point  they  assume  the  offensive;   apology 


CHAP   11.]  APOLOGETIC  ARGUMENTS  267 

becomes  polemic.  They  put  clearly  and  sharj  ly  before 
the  heathen  the  foolishness  of  idolatry,  the  immodest 
character  of  the  images  which  were  fashioned  by  de- 
praved artists  and  cared  for  by  dissolute  guardians; 
the  immorality  of  the  myths  which  constituted  the 
reading  of  the  heathen;  the  immorality  of  art  which 
exhibited  most  shameless  displays ;  finally  the  fruit  of 
all  this  as  shown  in  heathen  life  which  was  a  stagnant 
pool  of  immorality  —  these  things  were  held  up  before 
the  heathen  with  the  greatest  clearness  and  directness. 

But  the  Apologists  did  not  stop  there.  They  recog- 
nized not  only  that  side  of  Heathenism  which  is  opposed 
to  Christianity,  but  also  that  which  is  favorable  to  it. 
Their  endeavor  was  not  to  make  the  gulf  between 
Christianity  and  Heathenism  as  wide  and  impassable  as 
they  could,  but  to  bring  Christianity  as  near  as  possible 
to  Heathenism.  Therefore  they  sought  out  foreshadow 
ings  of  Christianity  in  Heathenism,  parallels  between 
the  teachings  of  the  philosophers  and  those  of  Chris- 
tianity, types  and  prophecies  of  it  in  the  heathen  world. 
It  may  sound  strangely  to  us  when  Justin  Martyr^ 
reminds  the  heathen  that  they  have  the  figure  of  the 
cross,  which  they  so  despise,  before  them  everywhere^ 
in  their  tools,  in  their  windows  and  doors,  in  the  erect 
form  of  man  and  even  in  their  banners  and  emblems  ol 
victory.  But  in  all  this  play  of  fancy  by  which  Justin 
seeks  to  present  ithe  cross  to  the  heathen  as  something 
long  known  and  typically  prefigured  everywhere  in 
nature  and  life,  there  is  a  deeper  meaning.  Justin  is 
really  following  in  the  path  marked  out  by  Paul  at 
Athens,  when  he  took  occasion  from  the  inscxiption  of 
a  heathen  altar  To  an  unknown  God  to  preach  thia 
^inknown  God  to  the  heathen.     But  Justin  brings  for- 


268  INFLUENCE  OF  CHRISTIANTTT.  [book  n 

ward  still  another  cause  for  the  original  destination  ol 
man  for  Christianity,  from  which  spring  all  these  un- 
conscious intimations  of  Christianity  in  Heathenism. 
It  is  found  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Logos  (the  word, 
John  i.  1),  of  which  he  makes  this  application.  The 
Logos  was  made  flesh  in  Christ,  but  while  the  Chris- 
tians possess  as  it  were  the  entire  Logos,  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  yet  fragments  of  the  Logos,  sporadic  manifesta- 
tions of  Him  are  scattered  through  the  heathen  world. 
There  the  activity  of  the  Logos  has  been  displayed 
in  the  philosophers,  poets,  and  lawgivers.  Hence  the 
echoes  of  Christian  truth  found  in  heathen  treatises 
and  poems,  and  the  manifold  excellences  of  heathen 
legislation !  Moreover  the  great  men  among  the  hea- 
then, their  men  of  heroic  virtue,  became  what  they 
were  through  the  Logos.  All  these  are  as  it  were  frag- 
ments of  Christianity  in  Heathenism  which  should  at- 
tract the  heathen  to  embrace  the  perfect  whole  .^'  Still 
more  definitely  is  the  age  of  Heathenism  recognized  as 
a  time  of  preparation  for  Christianity  in  the  Epistle  to 
Diognetus.^*  In  order  to  answer  the  question  so  often 
put  by  the  heathen,  why  God  had  sent  His  Son  so  late, 
the  author  explains  that  the  world  had  first  to  grow 
ripe  for  the  mission  of  Christ.  There  are  indeed  Apol- 
ogists whose  writings  contain  scarcely  any  thing  but 
polemics ;  Tatian  for  instance,  who  can  see  in  Heathen- 
ism only  folly  and  wickedness,  and  who  can  discern  no 
good  thing  in  all  its  products.^^  But  such  are  ex- 
ceptions. 

Speaking  generally,  there  is  audible  in  all  the  Apol- 
ogetic writings  of  the  period  a  tone  of  winning  love, 
which  finds  its  most  beau'^iful  rendering  in  the  noble 
epistle  to  Diognetus,  to  which  reference  has  often  been 


OHAi".  n.]      EFFECT  OF  THE  APOLOGIES.  26S 

made.  The  Apologists  aimed  not  to  repel  but  to 
attract,  and  for  this  purpose  they  made  use  of  every 
point  of  contact  with  Christianity  which  they  could 
find  in  Heathenism  or  in  the  souls  of  the  heathen. 
Christianity  was  viewed  by  the  heathen  as  something 
antagonistic  to  human  nature ;  the  Apologists  showed 
that  it  was  the  realization  of  true  humanity,  for  as 
Tertullian  later  so  beautifully  said,  "  the  human  soul  is 
naturally  Christian."  ^^ 

It  would  be  very  interesting  to  know  what  impression 
these  Apologies  made  upon  the  heathen ;  but  this  is 
denied  to  us,  for  a  direct  trace  of  their  influence  is 
nowhere  to  be  found.  Even  Celsus,  in  whose  time  a 
number  of  Apologetic  writings  were  in  existence,  gives 
them  so  little  attention  that  we  cannot  even  tell  whether 
he  had  read  them  or  not.  But  this  at  least  is  clear, 
that  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  ignore  a  religion  which 
entered  the  arena  in  such  a  manner.  The  policy  o^ 
ignoring  Christianity  was  forever  at  an  end.  In  th6 
former  half  of  the  century  the  educated  heathen  had 
considered  it  beneath  their  dignity  to  concern  them- 
selves with  the  "  barbarian  superstition."  But  now  this 
had  changed.  The  philosopher  Crescens  disputed  in 
Rome  concerning  the  Christian  faith  with  Justin.  But, 
of  course,  when  he  could  not  conquer  by  argument  he 
resorted  to  denunciation  and  sought  to  confute  his 
antagonist  by  means  of  the  death  sentence  from  the 
judge.  Fronto,  the  rhetorician,  the  teacher  of  the 
Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius,  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
men  of  his  time,  who  was  regarded  by  his  contempo- 
raries as  sm  unsurpassed  master  of  eloquence,  and 
worthy  of  disputing  Cicero's  pre-eminence,  —  Fronto 
felt  the  necessity  of  employirg  his  skill  in  an  attack 


270  LNFLUENCE  OF  CHRISTIAIS ITY.  [book  n 

upon  Christianity.  This  was  the  first  heathen  contro- 
versial work  of  which  we  know,  but  it  was  soon  cast 
into  the  shade  by  the  treatise  of  Celsus,  which  was  far 
more  comprehensive  in  its  scope  and  based  upon  actual 
study  of  Christianity.  Lucian,  the  popular  scoffer, 
scoffed  at  Christianity,  and  even  the  Emperor  could 
not  forbear  making  occasional  mention  of  it  in  his 
Meditations.  Although  the  opinions  expressed  were 
all  unfavorable,  some  of  them  full  of  bitter  hatred,  yet 
they  bear  witness  to  the  fact  that  Christianity  had  come 
to  be  felt  as  a  force  in  the  mental  life  of  the  period. 

It  was  impossible  that  communities  like  the  Christian 
churches  of  that  time,  possessing  such  an  energy  of 
faith  and  love,  should  exist  in  the  midst  of  the  heathen 
world,  without  exercising  an  influence  outside  their 
own  sphere  on  the  views  and  lives  of  those  who  con- 
tinued heathen.  There  was,  so  to  speak,  a  Christian 
atmosphere  which  was  diffused  around  the  Church  and 
penetrated  ever  deeper  into  the  atmosphere  of  Heathen- 
ism so  that  gradually  even  there  the  air  of  Christianity 
began  to  be  breathed.  But,  certain  as  the  assumption 
is  that  this  diffusion,  which  resulted  from  the  nature  of 
the  case,  really  took  place ;  yet  it  is  impossible,  at  least 
in  this  period  when  it  had  but  just  begun,  to  prove  its 
existence,  much  less  to  gauge  its  progress.  The  pro- 
cess was  of  too  spiritual,  intangible  a  nature  to  be 
measured,  or  to  permit  the  assertion  that  this  or  that 
change  in  the  heathen  world  took  place  under  the  in- 
fluence of  Christianity.  There  was  as  yet  nc  outward 
sign  of  it.  Even  in  Tertullian's  time,  several  decades 
later,  the  towns  still  wore  quite  their  old  heathen  aspect, 
images  of  the  gods  were  still  displayed  everywhere  in 
the  streets  and  squares,  the  shops  and  hi/uses.    But  the 


CHAP,  n.]     CHANGES  IN  THE  HEATHEN  WOELD.  271 

outward  signs  of  Christianity  could  not  appear  until  it 
had  become  the  ruKng  power.  On  the  other  hand  we 
may  discover  even  at  this  time  a  series  of  phenomena 
in  the  heathen  world  which  are  foreign  to  the  antique 
spirit,  but  remarkably  akin  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity. 

Let  us  dwell  for  a  moment  on  this  most  interestin'g 
fact.  According  to  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  world  a 
man  was  not  the  object  of  his  own  life,  but  served  only 
as  a  means  in  realizing  the  ideal,  which  was  political  — 
the  State.  Hence  a  man  was  worth  just  so  much  as  he 
contributed  to  this  ideal.  He  was  nothing  in  and  of 
himself,  but  only  with  reference  to  his  earthly  destiny 
did  he  count  for  any  thing.  For  this  reason,  woman, 
child,  and  slave  counted  for  nothing,  since  they  contrib- 
uted nothing  to  the  ideal  of  the  State.  Only  the  citizen 
was  of  any  value,  he  alone  had  rights.  Under  Chris- 
tianity every  human  being  as  such  is  of  value  entirely 
apart  from  his  particular  destiny  on  earth.  The  Holy 
Spirit  seeks  the  salvation  of  every  soul,  and  though  He 
establishes  a  kingdom,  the  kingdom  of  God,  it  is  com- 
posed of  sanctified  and  blessed  individuals.  The  tem- 
ple which  God  is  building  consists  of  living  stones, 
and  each  single  stone  is  also  itself  a  temple.  Each 
individual  becomes  an  end  in  the  common  end  and 
goal,  God's  kingdom.  But  now — the  interesting  fact 
referred  to  —  Heathenism  made  an  approach  to  Chris- 
tianity in  precisely  this  characteristic.  In  contradiction 
to  the  genuine  and  uniform  spirit  of  the  ancient  world, 
the  individual  came  more  and  more  to  have  rights  even 
in  the  view  of  the  heathen ;  a  human  being  bf^gan  with 
them  to  have  a  value  as  such. 

This  is  seen  in  the  case  of  woman.  The  claims  of 
woman  gained  greater  recognition,  in   rospect  to  the 


272  INFLUENCE  OF  CHEISTIANTTY.  [book  h 

property  of  married  women  and  in  other  matters.  A 
husband  could  now  be  arraigned  by  his  wife  for  adul- 
tery, no  longer  only  the  wife  by  the  husband.  The 
change  showed  still  more  plainly  in  the  treatment  of 
children.  The  Roman  of  the  ancient  stamp  showed 
little  love  and  tenderness  to  his  children.  Cicero  says : 
"  When  a  child  dies  young,  it  is  easy  to  be  consoled ;  if 
it  dies  in  the  cradle  no  concern  is  felt  about  it;"  and 
when  a  child  of  his  daughter  dies  he  speaks  of  the 
event  with  entire  equanimity.^  How  tender,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  the  feeling  of  Marcus  Aurelius  towards 
his  grandchildren !  How  he  grieves  when  they  happen 
to  be  sick,  and  with  what  anxiety  does  he  speak  in  his 
letters  of  the  cough  which  his  dear  little  Antoninus  has. 
The  "  little  nestling  "  occupied  his  thoughts  amid  all  his 
solicitude  about  the  Empire,  and  his  friend  the  orator 
Fronto  does  not  fail  to  present  his  greetings  to  the 
"  little  ladies,"  and  to  ask  Marcus  Aurelius  "  to  kiss  for 
him  their  fat  little  feet  and  dainty  hands."  ^ 

Hitherto  children  had  possessed  no  rights.  They 
were  completely  in  the  power  of  the  father,  who  might 
do  what  he  pleased  with  them,  even  kill  or  expose  them. 
But  at  this  time  the  paternal  power  underwent  increas- 
ing limitations.  Exposed  children  might  according  to 
the  ancient  law  be  treated  as  slaves  by  those  who 
brought  them  up.  Trajan  decreed  that  they  should  be 
free.  Alexander  Severus  allowed  to  the  father  the  right 
of  reclaiming  his  child,  provided  that  he  repaid  the 
expense  of  its  maintenance.  Children  began  to  be  the 
objects  of  much  more  care  in  all  respects.  Famous 
philosophers  recommended  mothers  to  nurse  their  chil- 
drep  themselves,  a  practice  which  had  for  some  time 
entirely  ceased  among  the  higher  classes.^    We  find 


CHAP.  n.l  KINDNESS  TO  CHILDREN.  278 

inscriptions  in  which  a  mother  boasts  of  having  nursed 
her  children  herself,  or  a  son  eulogizes  his  mother  by 
inscribing  on  her  tomb  that  she  was  also  his  nurse.** 
The  training  of  children  became  a  favorite  theme  with 
authors  in  this  period.  Seldom  has  so  much  been  said 
and  written  on  this  subject  as  in  the  age  of  the  Anto- 
nines.  Poor  children  too,  for  the  first  time,  received 
attention.  HitJierto  children  had  been  given  nothing  in 
the  distribution  of  corn,  but  now  five  thousand  chil- 
dren received  their  tesserce.  This  became  the  rule  in 
the  time  of  Trajan,  but  it  seems  to  have  occurred 
before  in  exceptional  cases. 

But  most  remarkable  of  all  were  the  institutions 
for  bringing  up  poor  children,  commenced  by  Nerva, 
and  greatly  extended  by  Trajan  and  his  successors.'^ 
The  Emperor  provided  for  the  care  of  five  thousand 
children  in  Rome,  and  also  for  a  considerable  number 
in  other  Italian  towns  and  in  Africa.  From  monuments 
fortunately  preserved  we  gain  a  tolerably  definite  idea 
of  this  arrangement.  The  Emperor  had  lent  to  the 
town  of  Veleia  near  Placentia  funds  (1,116,000  sesterces 
=  about  $55,800)  for  the  improvement  of  its  land.  In 
return  a  rent  of  55,800  sesterces  (about  $2,790)  was 
levied  on  the  land.  From  this  sum  263  boys  were  to 
receive  16  sesterces  each  per  month  (about  $9.60  per 
annum),  and  35  girls  12  sesterces  each  per  month  (about 
$7.20  per  annum),  and  also  two  illegitimate  children 
were  to  be  supported.  The  boys  received  this  support 
until  they  were  eighteen,  when  they  could  take  service 
iji  the  legions ;  the  girls  until  they  were  fourteen.  Ha- 
drian and  the  Antonines  enlarged  these  institutions, 
Commodus  and  Pertinax  abolished  them,  tut  they  were 
re -established  by  Alexander  Severus.     This  charity  had, 


274  INFLUENCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  [book  n 

it  is  true,  a  prominent  political  object,  as  is  plain  from 
the  fact  that  the  number  of  boys  supported  so  greatly 
preponderates.  The  intention  was  to  furnish  a  valu- 
able contingent  to  the  army :  "  nourished  by  thee  they 
enter  thy  service,"  says  Pliny  in  his  panegyric  on  Tra- 
jan.** Yet  this  was  not  simply  a  political  institution, 
himianity  had  also  a  share  in  it.  When  Antoninus 
lost  his  wife  Faustina,  he  thought  that  the  best  way  to 
honor  her  memory  was  to  found  an  institution  for  the 
support  of  poor  girls  (the  puellce  Faustiniance) ;  and 
Alexander  Severus  established  a  similar  institution  in 
honor  of  his  mother  Mammaea  (the  pueri  Mammoeani),^ 

Persons  in  private  stations  began  also  to  found  chari- 
ties of  this  kind.  Pliny,  for  instance,  endowed  one  in 
Como  with  30,000  sesterces  per  annum  (about  $1,500).^ 
A  rich  lady  provided  for  the  support  of  one  hundred 
children  in  Terracina,  and  gave  for  that  purpose  1,000,- 
000  sesterces  (about  $50,000).'*  All  such  institutions 
were  hitherto  unheard  of  in  the  ancient  world,  and 
the  change  in  the  spiritual  atmosphere  of  the  period  's 
most  clearly  illustrated  in  a  relief  on  the  column  of 
Trajan,  which  represents  the  Emperor  in  the  act  of  dis- 
tributing gifts  to  poor  children. 

From  this  time  the  instances  of  such  manifestations 
of  mercy  and  love  become  everywhere  more  numero'is, 
even  among  the  heathen.  Pliny  gave  his  nurse  an 
estate  which  had  cost  him  100,000  sesterces  (about 
15,000),  and  provided  a  dowry  for  the  daughter  of  one 
of  his  friends.^  He  founded  libraries  or  schools  for 
the  towns  which  had  claims  upon  him,  since  he  thought 
them  a  greater  benefit  than  gladiatorial  shows."  Such 
deeds  of  philanthropy  are  also  mentioned  in  inscrip- 
tions.   A  dealer  in  healing  herbs  (aromaiarius)^  in  a 


CHAP,  n.]  SLAVERY  AMELIORATED.  276 

attle  Italian  town,  left  by  will  to  the  town  300  jars  ol 
drugs  and  6,000  sesterces  (about  $300),  in  order  tbat 
medicine  might  be  gratuitously  dispensed  to  the  poor. 
Inscribed  on  a  tomb  we  find  these  words :  "  Do  good, 
and  thou  wilt  carry  it  with  thee."^  Yet  such  senti- 
ments were  far  from  being  general,  as  may  be  gathered 
from  the  casual  remark  of  Pliny,  when  he  calls  the 
good  works  we  have  mentioned  "  useful  but  not  very 
popular."  The  people  doubtless  still  preferred  gladia- 
torial shows. 

The  condition  of  the  slaves  also  began  to  improve. 
How  different  was  Pliny's  treatment  of  his  slaves,  from 
Cato's.  While  Cato's  slaves  were  compelled  to  work  in 
chains,  and  find  a  sleeping-place  among  the  stalls  of 
the  oxen,  on  Pliny's  estates  no  slave  ever  worked  in 
chains,  but  their  master  permitted  them  to  acquire 
property,  and  even  ate  at  the  same  table  with  his  freed- 
men.  Pliny  was  not  ashamed  to  give  expression  to  his 
sorrow  over  the  death  of  a  slave,  nor  did  he  restrain 
his  tears,  but  he  takes  occasion  to  say,  "  I  know  that 
not  all  think  as  I  do,  that  many  see  in  the  death  of  a 
slave  only  a  pecuniary  loss,  and  that  they  think  them- 
selves greater  and  wiser  by  reason  of  this  lack  of  feel- 
ing.'' ^^  More  significant  than  such  utterances  of  an 
individual  is  the  fact  that  the  law  now  began  to  take 
tlie  slaves  under  its  protection.  Hadrian  forbade  the 
arbitrary  killing  of  slaves;  they  were  to  be  brought 
to  trial,  and  condemned,  if  guilty.  He  prohibited  the 
sale  of  slaves,  male  or  female,  for  disgraceful  purposes. 
The  ergastula  were  abolished,  and  the  law  which  had 
destroyed  so  many  innocent  persons,  even  as  late  as 
the  time  of  Nero  —  namely,  that  when  a  master  was 
murdered,   and  the  assassin  was  r(t  discovered,  aU 


I 


276  INFLUENCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY  [book  u 

slaves  under  the  same  roof  with  the  murdered  man 
forfeited  their  lives  —  was  restricted  so  that  only  those 
were  to  be  executed  who  were  so  near  their  master, 
that  they  might  have  been  witnesses  of  the  deed. 
Further,  slaves  could  in  certain  cases  be  admitted  as 
witnesses;  they  could  use  their  property  for  the  pur- 
chase of  their  freedom,  and  public  slaves  were  per- 
mitted to  bequeath  by  will  more  than  half  of  their 
possessions.  All  this  is  novel,  and  when  we  remember 
what  were  the  views  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  and  even 
Cicero,  concerning  slavery,  we  recognize  the  great  dif- 
ference in  tone  of  these  words  written  by  Ulpian,  the 
great  jurist  of  the  age  of  the  Antonines :  "  According 
to  natural  law,  all  men  are  born  free ;  in  civil  law,  it  is 
true,  slaves  are  treated  as  having  no  rights ;  not  so,  how- 
ever, by  natural  law,  for  by  this  all  men  are  equal."  *" 
We  often  meet,  in  this  period,  with  similar  asser- 
tions of  the  equality  of  all  men,  that  they  are  all 
brothers,  all  fellow-citizens.  Such  assertions  begin  to 
be  common  property,  and  no  one  gives  them  more 
definite  expression  than  the  Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius. 
"  If  our  intellectual  part  is  common,"  he  says  in  his 
Meditations,  "the  reason  also,  in  respect  of  which  we 
are  rational  beings,  is  common :  and  if  this  is  so,  com- 
mon also  is  the  reason  which  commands  us  what  to  do, 
and  what  not  to  do :  if  this  is  so,  there  is  a  common 
law  also ;  if  this  is  so,  we  are  fellow-citizens ;  if  this  is 
so,  we  are  members  of  some  political  community;  if 
this  is  so  the  world  is  in  a  manner  a  state."  *^ 

Free  labor,  too,  began  gradually  to  gain  ground,  and 
to  receive  its  due  honor.  This  was  largely  due  to  the 
guilds  of  artisans  which  were  given  their  freedom  by 
Severus    and    Caracalla,   and    soon    attained    a  most 


CHAP,  n.]         THESE  REFORMS  NOT  CHIIISTIAJT.  271 

flourishing  condition.  In  this  direction,  als^,  legisla* 
tion  had  become  more  liberal  and  humane. 

But  all  this  was  foreign  to  the  spirit  of  the  classic 
world.  These  were  the  first  breathings  of  a  new  world, 
—  a  new  social  order.  Was  this  development  under 
th<^  influence  of  the  Christian  spirit?  and,  if  so,  to 
what  degree  ?  —  these  are  questions  as  difficult  as  they 
are  interesting. 

Some^^  have  believed  that  we  may  recognize  the  fruit 
of  Christianity  in  this  gradual  change,  which,  from 
this  time  forward,  became  ever  more  perceptible.  They 
place  it  all  to  the  credit  of  the  Christian  Church,  and 
weave  from  it  a  wreath  of  very  doubtful  glory.  Doubt- 
ful, because  if  the  Church  could  then  exercise  so  per- 
vading an  influence  on  heathen  life  and  Roman  legis- 
lation, it  becomes  impossible  to  understand  why  the 
complete  transformation  of  the  heathen  state  into  a 
Christian  government  was  so  slowly  brought  to  pass. 
And  it  is  especially  worthy  of  notice  that  the  Christians 
of  that  day  viewed  the  matter  otherwise.  The  reforms 
we  have  described  within  Heathenism,  in  the  interests 
of  humanity,  did  not  escape  the  sharp  eye  of  Tertullian, 
for  he  speaks  of  them  in  his  Apologeticus.  Yet  he  does 
iiot  use  them  as  a  proof  of  the  influence  of  Christianity, 
but,  assuming  their  independent  heathen  origin,  ad- 
duces them  to  show,  according  to  his  favorite  argimient, 
that  in  this  direction,  no  less  than  in  others,  there  is,  in 
the  natural  order  of  development,  a  current  which  sets 
towards  Christianity;  that,  to  use  his  own  expression, 
"the  soul  is  Christian  by  nature."  If  we  remember 
that  this  whole  change  in  the  views  of  the  heathen 
conunenced  before  any  influence  from  the  spirit  of 
Christianity  could  be  thought  of,  that  it  may  be  traced 


278  INFLUENCE  OP  CHRISl  lANITY.  [book  n 

back  even  to  Augustus ;  if  we  note  that  its  source  ia 
clearly  to  be  recognized  in  the  then  prevalent  Stoic 
philosophy;  and  if  we  realize,  as  is  implied  in  the 
statement  just  made,  that  there  was  a  great  difference 
between  this  humane  reform  and  the  new  life  infused 
by  Christianity ;  then  we  can  no  longer  remain  in  doubt 
of  the  real  nature  of  this  reform.  It  was  an  indepen- 
dent development  in  which  the  heathen  world  took  a 
step  to  meet  Christianity,  just  as  we  have  seen  that  in 
Heathenism  a  Universalism  sprang  up  which  prepared 
the  way  for  the  universal  claims  of  Christianity.  In 
this  also  we  see  the  way  in  which  God  led  the  heathen 
towards  His  Son,  and  here  too  we  recognize  that  "  the 
fulness  of  the  time  was  come." 

But  if  this  was  a  movement  entirely  apart  from  the 
influence,  and  parallel  to  the  course  of  Christianity,  the 
further  question  arises :  at  what  point  is  the  confluence  of 
the  two  currents,  where  does  the  course  of  Heathenism 
come  under  the  control  of  the  progress  of  Christianit/ 
and  coalesce  with  it  ?  Of  course  the  exact  point  cannot 
be  determined  with  certainty;  for  such  spiritual  cur- 
rents make  a  hidden,  a  subterranean  course,  so  to  speak, 
long  before  they  become  visible  and  traceable.  The 
influence  of  Christianity  on  Heathenism  cannot  be 
traced  in  the  time  of  Marcus  Aurelius.  We  find  no 
evidence  of  it  in  Celsus,  in  whom  if  anywhere  it  would 
show  itself.  Celsus,  though  he  is  forced  against  his  will 
to  recognize  the  power  of  Christianity,  yet  occupies  a 
position  of  unqualified  opposition  to  it.  But  only  a 
few  decades  later  the  influence  of  Christianity  on 
Heathenism  gives  most  striking  proofs  of  its  existence. 
In  the  receptions  of  Julia  Domna,  the  talented  consort 
of  the  Emperor,  Septimius  Severus,  who  drew  around 


OHAP.  n.]      HEATHEN  VIEWS  OF  CHRIS  riANITY.  279 

her  a  circle  of  philosophers,  rhetoricians  and  jurists» 
it  was  recognized  that  Christianity  contained  many  ele* 
ments  in  which  Heathenism  was  deficient,  and  the  ques- 
tion was  discussed  how  these  advantages  of  Christianity 
could  be  transferred  to  Heathenism.  This  circle  pro- 
duced the  remarkable  book  of  Philostratus,  the  biog- 
raphy of  ApoUonius  of  Tyana,  in  which  characteristics 
drawn  from  the  portrait  of  the  despised  Jesus  are  trans- 
ferred to  the  heathen  Prophet,  —  not  to  call  him  the 
heathen  Messiah.  But  if  the  influence  of  Christianity 
on  heathen  modes  of  thought  can  from  this  time  no 
longer  be  denied,  then,  in  my  view  at  least,  it  is  not 
rash  to  assume  that  even  in  the  time  of  Marcus  Aure- 
lius  a  silent,  intangible  and  yet  really  existing  influence 
was  at  work. 

But  even  if  the  existence  of  such  an  influence  be 
utterly  denied  in  this  period,  there  are  not  wanting 
other  signs  of  the  extent  to  which  Christianity  had 
become  a  power.  The  heathen  world  trembled  for  the 
first  time  with  the  fear  that  this  Christianity  hitherto 
so  thoroughly  despised  might  gain  the  ascendancy.  It 
is  only  necessary  to  read  Celsus  in  order  to  perceive 
the  anxiety  with  which  he  already  viewed  the  numbers 
of  the  Christians  to  which  he  often  alludes.  He  even 
imagines  the  possibility  of  their  controlling  affairs,  and 
can  then  see  in  the  future  nothing  but  a  frightful 
catastrophe  in  which  the  Empire  would  be  wrecked. 
The  Barbarians  would  conquer  the  Emperoi  deserted 
by  his  subjects,  and  usurp  the  supremacy  and  no 
bmallest  vestige  of  the  Christian  worship  cr  of  the 
true  wisdom  would  remain.*^  It  was  this  anxiety 
which  arose  spontaneously  among  the  heathen,  the 
half-felt  consciousness  that  they  were  already  undei 


280  INFLUENCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  [book  n 

the  ban  of  the  new  faith,  which  at  this  time  roused  to 
the  utmost  the  rage  of  the  people  against  the  Chris- 
tians. Great  calamities  came  upon  the  Empire  in  the 
reign  of  Marcus  Aurelius.  In  the  East  the  Parthians 
crossed  the  frontier,  and  laid  waste  the  country.  When 
the  Emperor  had  been  successful  in  driving  back  the 
foe,  and  even  in  regaining  Mesopotamia,  which  had 
been  given  up  by  Hadrian,  the  army  brought  back  with 
*t  from  the  East  a  terrible  plague,  which  traversed  the 
entire  Empire,  canied  off  countless  multitudes,  and  left 
whole  districts  completely  desolate.  To  this  succeeded 
a  not  less  terrible  famine,  and  when  the  strength  and 
courage  of  the  people  had  been  enfeebled  by  the  united 
pestilence  and  famine,  war  broke  out  along  the  Danube 
with  the  Marcomanni,  a  war  which  proved  one  of  the 
severest  in  which  Rome  ever  engaged.  These  were 
the  first  waves  of  the  migration  of  the  nations,  which, 
threatening  the  destruction  of  the  Empire,  were  beat- 
ing against  its  frontiers.  In  this  time  of  distress  the 
heathen  sought  help  from  their  gods,  and  the  Emperor 
himself  instituted  expiatory  sacrifices  and  offerings. 
The  people,  excited  to  fanaticism,  saw  in  their  mis- 
fortunes the  anger  of  the  gods,  which  the  Christians 
were  supposed  to  have  incurred.  More  zealously  than 
ever  before  were  spread  the  rumors  of  the  revolting 
crimes  of  the  Christians,  which  found  an  apparent  con- 
firmation in  occasional  confessions  wrung  from  them  by 
torture,  and  which  even  to  a  man  like  Fronto  were  the 
most  weighty  charge  against  them.  Such  godless  men 
must  be  utterly  destroyed  in  order  to  appease  the  angei 
of  the  gods. 

The  Christians  on  their  part  made  their  appeal  to 
the   Emperors'  love   of  justice.     The  object  of  their 


CTAP.  II.]  JUSTIN  MARTYR'S  APPEAL.  ,      281 

entreaties  and  demands  was  not  as  yet  recognition,  not 
yet  complete  religious  freedom.  The  thought  of  these 
was  yet  in  the  background  and  was  first  made  prominent 
by  the  Apologists  of  the  third  century.  Before  this  the 
Christians  asked  only  that  the  justice  of  the  Emperors 
would  put  an  end  to  the  unjust  persecutions  and  con- 
demnations. "In  behalf  of  those  men  of  all  nations 
who  are  unjustly  hated  and  oppressed,  T,  Justin,  .  .  . 
being  one  of  them,  have  composed  this  address  and 
petition.  .  .  .  Since  then  you  are  universally  termed 
pious  and  philosophers  and  guardians  of  justice  and 
lovers  of  learning,  it  shall  now  be  seen  whether  you  are 
indeed  such.  For  we  have  not  come  to  flatter  you  by 
these  writings  of  ours,  nor  to  seek  to  please  by  our 
address ;  but  to  make  our  claim  to  be  judged  after  a 
strict  and  searching  inquiry ;  so  that  neither  by  preju- 
dice nor  desire  of  popularity  from  the  superstitious, 
nor  by  any  unthinking  impulse  of  zeal,  nor  by  that  evil 
report  which  has  so  long  kept  possession  of  your  minds, 
you  may  be  urged  to  give  a  decision  against  yourselves. 
For  it  is  our  maxim  that  we  can  suffer  harm  from  none, 
unless  we  be  convicted  as  doers  of  evil,  or  proved  to  be 
wicked.  You  may,  indeed,  slay  us,  but  hurt  us  you  can- 
not. But,  lest  any  should  say  that  this  is  a  senseless 
and  rash  assertion,  I  entreat  that  the  charges  against  us 
may  be  examined ;  and,  if  they  be  substantiated,  let  us 
be  punished  as  is  right.  But  if  no  man  can  convict 
us  of  any  crime,  true  reason  does  not  allow  you  through 
a  wicked  report  to  wrong  the^nocent,  or  rather  your- 
selves, who  are  disposed  to  direct  affairs  not  by  judg- 
ment but  by  passion."  ^  This  plea  was  wel^  founded ; 
and  the  Christians  weie  too  fully  persuaded  of  the  jus- 
tice of  their  cause,  not  to  expect  justice  from  an  Em' 


i.82  PEBSECUTION  UNDER  M.  AUREUaS.       [book  n 

peror  like  Marcus  Aurelius.  They  were  mistaken.  It 
was  under  Marcus  Aurelius  that  the  persecution  gre^ 
more  severe  than  ever  before.  They  asked  for  peace, 
and  the  Emperor  by  reason  both  of  his  personal  atti- 
tude and  of  the  situation  of  the  Empire  could  not  give 
them  any  other  answer  than  war. 

in.   THE  PERSECUTION  UNDER  MARCUS  AURELIUS. 

Marcus  Aurelius  was  one  of  the  best  Emperors  who 
ever  ascended  the  Roman  throne.  Great  earnestness 
and  an  almost  excessive  conscientiousness  are  the  prin- 
cipal traits  of  his  character.  He  was  Emperor  from  a 
sense  of  duty,  because  the  Gods  had  placed  him  at  J 
that  post,  and  he  must  therefore  occupy  it.  The  im-  " 
perial  dignity  was  for  him  an  office  which  he  must 
administer,  and  this  he  did  gratuitously,  for  his  personal 
wants  were  supplied  from  his  private  purse.  To  pre- 
serve peace  of  soul  amid  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  and 
his  life  contained  many ;  to  be  true  to  himself,  just  and 
merciful  towards  others ;  to  be  moderate  in  all  things, 
and  to  follow  the  voice  of  conscience  regardless  of 
men's  praise  or  blame,  —  such  were  the  duties  he  re- 
quired from  himself.  Till  the  end  of  his  life  he  toiled 
at  the  elevation  of  his  own  moral  character.  His  Medi- 
tations^ twelve  books  "  addressed  to  himself,"  a  kind  of 
diary  which  he  wrote  in  part  amid  the  turmoil  of  war 
"  in  the  land  of  the  Quadi,"  bear  witness  to  this.  In 
them  he  sets  before  himself  a  lofty  ideal,  and  it  must  be 
allowed  that  he  earnestly  strove  to  realize  it.  Man  is 
in  his  view  a  being  created  for  disinterested  activity, 
and  lies  under  an  obligation  to  labor  unweariedly  for 
the  good  of  his  fellows,  regardless  of  gratitide  or  re- 
ward.   "  When  thou  hast  done  a  good  act,  and  anothei 


I 


SWAP,  n.]  CHARACTER  OF  THE  EMPEROR.  283 

Las  received  it,  why  dost  thou  still  look  for  a  third 
thing  besides  these,  as  fools  do,  either  to  have  the  repu- 
tation of  having  done  a  good  act  or  to  obtain  a  return? '' 
"  Art  thou  not  content  that  thou  hast  done  something 
conformable  to  thy  nature,  and  dost  thou  seek  to  be 
paid  for  it  ?  Just  as  if  the  eye  demanded  a  recompense 
for  seeing  or  the  feet  for  walking."  All  men,  he  often 
emphatically  lays  down,  are  brothers ;  even  wicked  men 
are  only  erring  ones,  who  act  in  opposition  to  their 
better  selves.  "  Men  exist  for  the  sake  of  one  another. 
Teach  them,  then,  or  bear  with  them."  *'  And  this  very 
Emperor  who  would  have  men  tolerate  the  wicked  as 
erring  brethren,  and  whose  administration  of  justice 
was  so  painfully  conscientious,  that  he  would  spend 
whole  days  in  the  investigation  of  a  single  case,  in  order 
to  be  certain  of  not  wronging  any  one,  —  this  Emperor 
was  destined  to  be  one  of  the  most  determined  perse- 
cutors of  the  Christians,  that  is,  do  the  greatest  of 
wrongs  to  the  best  of  men. 

Marcus  Aurelius  was  a  Stoic,  and  though  the  virtue 
of  humility  was  foreign  to  the  entire  antique  world, 
of  the  Stoic  philosophy  we  may  say  that  its  very  life 
was  pride.  The  Emperor's  religion  was  a  fatalistic 
Pantheism;  Nature  was  his  God.  "Every  thing  har- 
monizes with  me,  which  is  harmonious  to  thee,  O  Uni- 
verse !  Nothing  for  me  is  too  early  or  too  late,  which 
is  in  due  time  for  thee.  Every  thing  is  fruit  to  me 
which  thy  seasons  bring,  O  Nature !  from  thee  are  all 
things,  in  thee  are  all  things,  to  thee  all  things  return." 
In  proud  resignation  to  the  decisions  of  fate  he  sought 
his  peace.  "  Willingly  give  thyself  up  to  Clotho,  allow- 
ing her  to  spin  thy  tliread  into  whatever  things  she 
pleases."      Marcus  Aurelius    believed    that  he  could 


284  PERSECUTION  UNDER  M.  AURELIUS.       [book  ix 

realize  his  moral  ideal  by  his  own  power.  He  believed 
in  himself  and  at  bottom  in  himself  only.  "  It  is  suffi* 
cient  to  attend  to  the  daemon  (good  Genius)  within, 
and  to  reverence  him  sincerely."  The  sage  holds  inti- 
mate communion  with  him  who  is  enshrined  within. 
"  Bear  it  constantly  in  mind  that  thou  must  exhibit  the 
steadfast  character  which  becomes  a  man."  "And 
further  let  the  deity  which  is  in  thee  be  the  guardian 
of  a  living  being,  manly  and  of  ripe  age,  and  engaged 
in  matter  political,  and  a  Roman,  and  a  ruler,  who  has 
taken  his  post  like  a  man  waiting  for  the  signal  which 
summons  him  from  life,  and  ready  to  go,  having  need 
neither  of  oath  nor  of  any  man's  testimony."  We  can 
distinctly  hear  in  this  the  Pharisaical  tone :  "  God,  I 
thank  thee  that  I  am  not  as  other  men  are."  "  Call  to 
recollection,"  he  soliloquizes,  "that  the  history  of  thy 
life  is  now  complete,  and  thy  service  is  ended :  and  how 
many  beautiful  things  thou  hast  seen ;  and  how  many 
pleasures  and  pains  thou  hast  despised ;  and  how  many 
things  called  honorable  thou  hast  spurned;  and  to 
how  many  ill-minded  folks  thou  hast  shown  a  kind 
disposition."  ^ 

A  man  who  took  this  attitude  could  only  reject  the 
story  of  the  cross,  the  gospel  of  grace  for  sinners. 
Marcus  Aurelius  was  far  too  much  of  a  slave  to  his 
philosophic  theories,  far  too  thoroughly  steeped  in  the 
prejudices  of  the  schools,  to  be  able  to  give  a  hearing 
to  the  artless  message  of  salvation.  He  was  far  too 
proud  and  cold  to  receive  from  the  Christians'  joy  in 
their  faith,  any  other  impression  than  that  of  fanaticism. 
And  in  his  Meditations  he  thus  speaks  of  Christiani- 
ty; "What  a  soul  that  is  which  is  ready,  if  at  any 
moment  it  must  be  separated  from  the  body,  and  ready 


CHAP,  n.]         MARCUS  AURELIUS  AND  FRONTO.  286 

either  to  be  extinguislied  or  dispersed  or  continue  to 
exist;  bat  so  that  this  readiness  comes  from  a  man'3 
own  judgment,  not  from  mere  obstinacy,  as  with  the 
Christians,  but  considerately  and  with  dignity  and  in  a 
way  to  persuade  another,  without  tragic  show."  ^^  How 
far  above  the  Christian  martyrs,  the  Emperor  evidently 
thought  himself  I  Of  what  led  them  to  death,  he  had 
no  conception.  He  can  hardly  have  known  more  of 
Christianity  than  what  was  conveyed  to  him  by  hearsay, 
and  what  Fronto,  his  teacher  and  friend,  may  have  told 
him  of  it.y 

It  is  significant  for  the  position  of  Marcus  Aurelias, 
that  Fronto,  the  first  literary  antagonist  of  Christianity, 
was  so  intimate  with  him.  Fronto  was  a  learned  man, 
an  advocate  of  the  then  fashionable  Renaissance.  The 
revival  of  the  antique  was  the  fashion.  Ennius  was 
rated  above  Virgil,  Cato's  style  preferred  to  that  of 
Cicero.  Fronto  was  a  rhetorician.  He  was  better  sup- 
plied with  words  than  with  ideas.  The  form  of  what 
he  had  to  say  was  finished  to  the  last  degree  ;  the  less 
there  was  to  be  said,  the  more  energy  was  spent  in 
declamation.  Yet  Fronto  was  a  thoroughly  honorable 
man,  humane,  a  willing  servant,  faithful  to  his  friends 
even  in  misfortune,  not  lacking  in  feeling,  so  far  as  his 
rhetoric  left  room  for  it.  He  was  no  zealot ;  he  held 
tenaciously  but  with  a  certain  coldness  and  tranquillity 
to  a  belief  in  the  gods,  in  providence,  and  in  a  joyful 
life  after  death.  Predominant  in  his  character  is  the 
proud  self-consciousness  of  the  Stoic.  When  aged  aad 
sickly,  deeply  sorrowing  over  the  death  of  his  wife,  and 
afflicted  by  the  loss  of  five  children,  he  yet  could  write 
these  words :*^  "That  which  consoles  me  is  that  my 
lif  3  is  near  its  end  and  goal.     When  death  comes  I  will 


286  PEBSECUTION  UNDER  M.  AUBELIUS.       [boob  a 

freely  display  my  conscience,  and  give  to  myself  the 
testimony  that  in  all  my  life  I  have  done  nothing  for 
which  I  needed  to  blush,  or  reproach  myself,  as  being 
a  blemish  or  a  cause  of  shame.  No  trace  of  avarice  or 
unfaithfulness  has  been  discoverable  in  me,  but  on  the 
contrary  numerous  acts  of  liberality,  of  affection,  of 
fidelity,  and  of  courage  often  with  peril  of  my  life.  I 
have  lived  in  the  most  intimate  union  with  the  best 
of  my  brethren.  The  honors  which  I  have  attained 
have  not  been  sought  by  evil  ways.  I  have  put  care 
for  my  soul  before  carefulness  for  the  body,  and  the 
pursuit  of  knowledge  before  that  of  my  own  interests. 
I  have  been  poor  rather  than  ask  the  help  of  others,  I 
have  suffered  want  rather  than  beg.  I  have  not  spent 
my  superfluous  possessions  with  prodigality,  but  at 
times  I  have  freely  bestowed  that  which  was  necessary 
to  me.  I  have  sought  truth  conscientiously,  and  have 
heard  it  gladly.  I  have  preferred  to  be  forgotten 
rather  than  to  flatter,  to  be  silent  rather  than  to  dis- 
semble, to  be  a  slack  friend  rather  than  a  zealous  cour- 
tier. I  have  put  forward  few  claims,  but  not  few  nor 
small  have  been  my  merits.  I  have  been  zealous  to 
help  those  who  deserved  help,  and  not  slow  to  help 
those  who  did  not  deserve  it,  and  the  scant  gratitude 
which  I  have  received  has  not  made  me  unwilling  to  do 
others  as  much  good  as  I  could."  A  man  who  at  the 
end  of  his  life  made  such  a  confession  as  this,  must 
naturally  find  the  gospel  of  the  Saviour  of  sinners 
incomprehensible.  He  felt  no  need  of  a  Saviour,  and 
when  he  came  in  contact  with  Him,  it  could  be  or  ly  to 
oppose  Him.  But  Fronto  is  only  a  type  of  the  age. 
Many  more  held  the  same  views,  especially  among  those 
who  stood  nearest  to  the  Emperor.    Philosophy,  long 


CHAP,  n.]  POLICY   OF   THE   EMPEROK.  287 

looked  upon  with  suspicion  and  often  persecuted  by 
earlier  Emperors,  had  now  come  into  power.  A  phi- 
losopher sat  upon  the  imperial  throne,  philosophers 
filled  the  highest  offices  of  the  State  and  governed  the 
provinces.  For  the  Church  such  a  condition  of  affairs 
could  only  mean  not  peace  but  war. 

But  entirely  aside  from  his  personal  sympathies  or 
antipathies,  the  political  views  and  aims  of  the  Emperor 
must  have  made  him  the  enemy  of  Christianity.  For 
him  the  State  was  supreme.  "  The  end  of  rational  ani- 
mals," he  asserts,  "  is  to  follow  the  reason  and  the  law 
of  the  most  ancient  city  and  polity."  "  That  which  is 
not  good  for  the  swarm,  neither  is  it  good  for  the  bee." 
It  is  a  law  of  the  universe  to  sacrifice  the  part  to 
the  whole,  so  too  in  the  State.  Those  who  disturbed  the 
union  of  the  citizens  were  rebels,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Emperor.  He  had  no  conception  of  an  individual  con- 
science, nor  of  what  it  demands.  He  was  a  Roman; 
the  restoration  of  Roman  virtue  and  thus  of  the  Roman 
State,  this  was  his  chief  ambition.  "Every  moment 
think  steadily  as  a  Roman  and  a  man  to  do  what  thou 
hast  in  hand  .  .  .  ,"  *^  he  exhorts  himself.  Thus  Chris- 
tianity presented  itself  to  him  as  nothing  but  an  anti- 
Roman  superstition,  which  must  be  done  away  with,  in 
order  to  make  room  for  the  true  Roman  spirit. 

During  the  first  years  of  the  reign  of  Marcus  Aurelius 
the  Christians'  position  remained  the  same  as  before. 
Trajan's  regulations  were  still  the  standard  for  all  pro- 
ceedings against  them,  except  that  the  many  calami- 
ties which  had  come  upon  the  Empire  had  excited  the 
fanaticism  of  the  heathen  to  greater  fierceness,  and  the 
authorities  opposed  less  resistance  to  the  demands  of 
the  people.    A  persecution  flamed  up  with  peculiar  fury 


288  PERSECUTION   UNDER   M.   AURELIUS.      [book  iv. 

in  Asia  Minor,  and  in  it  Polycarp,  the  last  of  those  who 
had  been  taught  by  the  apostles,  suffered  martyrdom. 
The  Proconsul  had  already  yielded  to  the  popular  clamor 
so  far  as  to  execute  a  number  of  Christians  by  torture, 
or  by  exposure  to  the  wild  beasts,  or  by  burning  at  the 
stake,  when  the  multitude  assembled  in  the  amphi- 
theatre demanded  in  addition  the  death  of  Polycarp. 
"  Away  with  the  Atheists  !  Search  for  Polycarp !  "  with 
shouts  like  these  they  besieged  the  Proconsul.  Poly- 
carp had  withdrawn  to  an  estate  near  the  city,  and, 
when  he  was  sought  there,  escaped  to  another ;  yet  two 
slaves  were  captured,  one  of  whom  under  torture  be- 
trayed the  retreat  of  the  bishop.  When  the  soldiers 
sent  to  take  him  prisoner  approached  the  villa,  Polycarp 
was  in  the  upper  story,  and  might  easily  have  fled  from 
there  to  the  roof  of  the  next  house.  But  when  urged 
to  do  this,  he  refused,  and  quietly  went  down  to  deliver 
himself  up  to  the  soldiers.  He  asked  only  a  single 
hour  for  prayer.  But  he  remained  two  hours  in  rapt 
devotion,  so  that  even  the  heathen  were  moved  by  it. 

Then  the  aged  bishop  was  conveyed  to  the  city  on  an 
ass.  On  the  way  he  was  met  by  the  chief  of  the  police, 
who  took  him  up  into  his  carriage,  and  said  in  a  friendly 
manner :  "  What  harm  can  there  be  in  saying :  '  The 
Emperor,  our  Lord  I '  and  in  sacrificing  ?  "  Polycarp  at 
first  was  silent ;  but  when  they  urged  him,  he  quietly 
answered :  "  I  shall  not  do  as  you  advise."  Then  with 
abuse  they  thrust  him  so  violently  out  of  the  carriage, 
as  to  injure  one  of  his  legs.  But  he  went  onward  cheer- 
fully as  if  nothing  had  happened.  In  the  circus  the 
Proconsul  was  awaiting  him,  surrounded  by  an  immense 
multitude  of  people  who  had  flocked  thither  at  the  news 
that  Polycarp  was  captured.     The  Proconsul  at  first  re- 


ohhf.  n.]  MARTYRDOM  OF  POLYCARP.  289 

minded  him  of  his  great  age,  and  urged  him  to  regaid 
it,  and  show  his  penitence  by  swearing  by  the  Genius  of 
^he  Emperor,  and  joining  in  the  cry :  "  Away  with  the 
Atheists !  "  The  bishop  looked  with  a  steadfast  coun- 
tenance on  the  tumultuous  crowd,  and  pointing  to 
them  with  his  finger,  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and 
said :  "  Away  with  the  Atheists !  "  Then  the  Procon- 
sul urged  him  further :  "  Swear,  and  I  release  thee,  re- 
vile Christ  I "  Then  Polycarp  answered :  "  Eighty  and 
six  years  have  I  served  him,  and  he  has  never  done  me 
a  wrong ;  how  can  I  blaspheme  him,  my  King,  who  has 
saved  me?"  When  the  Proconsul  yet  again  pressed 
him :  "  Swear  by  the  Genius  of  the  Emperor ! "  Polycarp 
replied:  "If  thou  cherishest  the  vain  thought  that  I 
will  swear  by  the  Genius  of  the  Emperor,  as  thou  sayest, 
and  pretendest  not  to  know  who  I  am,  hear  it  plainly : 
I  am  a  Christian ! "  This  was  the  decisive  word,  and 
the  trial  was  properly  at  an  end.  Nevertheless  the  Pro- 
consul still  sought  to  save  him,  if  he  would  only  per- 
suade the  people  to  desist  from  their  demands.  But 
Polycarp  refused :  "  To  thee  I  owed  an  answer,  for  we 
are  taught  to  pay  due  honor  to  the  powers  ordained  of 
God,  but  those  men  I  do  not  think  the  proper  persons 
to  he«^r  my  defence."  In  vain  the  Proconsul  now 
threatened  him  with  the  wild  beasts  and  the  staJse. 
Ji'olycarp  remained  true  to  his  confession,  and  so  the 
Proconsul  caused  it  to  be  proclaimed:  "Polycarp  has 
confessed  himself  to  be  a  Christian."  Hardly  had  the 
herald  made  the  proclamation,  when  the  whole  multi- 
tude cried  out:  "This  is  the  teacher  of  impiety,^  the 
father  of  the  Christians,  the  enemy  of  our  gods,  who 
teaches  so  many  not  to  sacrifice,  nor  to  worship  Ihe 
gods."     They  rushed  in  a  body  to  Philip,  the  Asiarch, 


290  PERSECUTION  UNDER  M.  AURBUUS.       [book  a 

who  had  charge  of  the  public  games,  and  demanded 
that  he  should  let  loose  a  lion  upon  Polycarp.  When 
he  refused,  because  the  games  were  already  finished, 
they  clamored  for  him  to  be  burned.  With  all  speed 
they  collected  wood  from  the  workshops  and  baths  near 
by,  and  made  a  pile.  Polycarp  was  unwilling  to  be 
fastened  to  the  stake.  "  Leave  me  thus,"  he  said :  "  He 
who  strengthens  me  to  endure  the  fire  will  also  enable 
me  to  stand  firm  at  the  stake  without  being  fastened 
with  nails."  Then  after  he  had  prayed  with  a  loud 
voice :  "  Lord  God  Almighty,  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  I  praise  Thee  that  Thou  hast  judged  me  worthy 
of  this  day  and  of  this  hour,  to  participate  in  the  num- 
ber of  Thy  witnesses  and  in  the  cup  of  Thy  Christ," 
he  was  consumed  by  the  flames.  This  took  place  on 
the  6th  of  April,  A.  D.  166." 

About  the  same  time  Justin  sealed  the  testimony 
given  in  his  Apology  by  his  martyrdom.**^  When  he 
wrote  the  second  Apology,  he  was  already  aware  of  what 
awaited  him.  He  narrates  the  executions  of  several 
Christians,  which  had  given  the  occasion  for  the  Apology, 
and  then  adds :  "  I  too  expect  to  be  taken  in  their  snares, 
and  impaled."  ^  He  knew  that  the  philosopher  Cres- 
cens  longed  to  be  revenged  upon  him  and  had  daily 
before  his  eyes  proofs  of  how  easy  it  was  to  procure 
the  death  of  a  Christian.  Crescens  denounced  him,  and 
with  several  other  Christians  he  was  brought  before 
Junius  Rusticus,  the  Prefect  of  the  city.  Justin  qui- 
etly explained  who  he  was,  and  what  was  his  occupa- 
tion; that  he  had  himself  sought  and  found  the  truth, 
and  that  now  when  any  one  came  to  him  he  communi- 
cated to  him  the  teachings  of  the  truth.  "Art  thou 
not  then  a  Christian  ?  "  asked  the  Prefect,  and  Justin 


HHAP.  n.]  MARTYRDOM  OF  JUSTIN.  291 

replied  •  "  Yes ;  I  am  a  Christian."  After  the  rest  had 
made  tiie  same  confession,  the  Prefect  turned  again  to 
Justin,  and  asked  mockingly:  "Listen,  thou  who  art 
called  learned,  and  believest  that  thou  knowest  the  true 
doctrines,  art  thou  persuaded  that  when  thou  shalt  have 
been  scourged  and  beheaded,  thou  wilt  then  ascend 
into  heaven?"  —  "I  hope,"  replied  Justin,  "to  receive 
Christ's  gracious  gift,  when  I  shall  have  endured  all 
those  things."  —  "  Thou  really  thinkest,  then,  that  thou 
wilt  ascend  into  heaven,  and  there  receive  a  recom- 
pense ?  "  asked  the  Prefect  yet  more  scornfully.  "  I  not 
merely  think  so,  but  I  know  and  am  thoroughly  con- 
vinced of  it,"  answered  Justin.  This  must  have  seemed 
perfect  madness  to  the  Prefect.  He  did  not  think  it 
worth  while  to  parley  with  such  people.  "  To  come  to 
the  point,  advance  together,  and  unite  in  sacrificing  to 
the  gods !  "  —  "  No  right-minded  man  will  leave  the  wor- 
ship of  God  for  its  opposite,"  was  the  answer.  "  If  ye 
do  not  obey,  ye  must  suffer  punishment  without  mercy," 
threatened  the  Prefect,  but  the  Christians  responded 
with  cheerful  courage :  "  Do  what  you  will,  we  are 
Christians,  and  do  not  sacrifice  to  idols."  Then  the 
Prefect  pronounced  the  sentence  :  "  Since  they  are  such 
as  do  not  sacrifice  to  the  gods,  nor  obey  the  command 
of  the  Emperor,  let  them  be  scourged  and  executed 
according  to  the  laws."  Giving  praise  to  God,  the 
martyrs  went  to  the  place  of  execution,  where,  after 
being  scourged,  they  were  beheaded  with  the  axe. 

When  we  bear  in  mind  that  we  have  detailed  ac- 
counts of  the  persecution  only  so  far  as  it  dealt  with 
prominent  men  like  Polycarp  and  Justin,  but  that 
besides  these,  as  may  be  inferred  from  many  scattered 
indications,  a  large  number  of  nameless  victims  suffered 


292  PERSECCJTION  UNDER  M.  AURELIUS.       [book  u 

for  their  Lord,  the  position  of  the  Christians  will  ap 
pear  to  have  been  distressing  enough,  even  in  tie  first 
years  of  the  reign  of  Marcus  Aurelius.  But  it  waa 
destined  to  become  much  worse.  We  can  easily  guess 
what  induced  the  Emperor  for  the  first  time,  to  go 
beyond  the  regulations  of  Trajan.  The  situation  of 
the  Empire  grew  more  and  more  gloomy.  True,  the 
Parthians  were  subdued,  but  pestilence  and  famine  dev- 
astated the  Empire,  while  the  war  along  the  Danube 
was  carried  on  with  varying  success,  and  demanded  the 
greatest  exertions.  That  the  Romans  suffered  severe 
defeats  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  later,  when 
the  war  was  ended,  the  lazyges  restored  one  hundred 
thousand  Roman  prisoners.  Once  the  Emperor  and  his 
whole  army  came  near  being  taken  prisoners  by  the 
Quadi.  The  rescue  is  said  to  have  come  in  answer  to 
the  prayer  of  the  Xllth.  Legion,  which  was  almost  en 
tirely  composed  of  Christians.  When  all  seemed  lost, 
the  Christians  prayed  to  their  God.  Then  came  a 
terrible  storm,  the  rain  refreshed  the  legions,  which 
were  perishing  with  thirst,  and,  amid  thunder,  light- 
ning, and  hail,  which  fell  upon  the  enemy,  the  Quadi 
were  routed.  The  story,  in  this  form,  is  only  a  legend ; 
for  it  can  be  proved  that  the  Xllth.  Legion  bore  the 
name  Fulminata  (which  was  said  to  have  come  from  this 
event)  as  far  back  as  the  times  of  Nerva  and  Trajan, 
The  historical  part  of  it  is  only  that  the  army  of  the 
Emperor,  in  great  straits,  in  danger  of  perishing  from 
thirst,  was  saved  by  a  sudden  and  heavy  rain-storm. 
Heathen  accounts  and  contemporaneous  monuments 
ascribe  the  rescue  to  heathen  gods,  specif Jly  to  Jupiter 
Pluvius.  On  the  part  of  the  Christians,  no  doubt  the 
above  legend  sprang  up  at  the  same  ti^ae,  since  it  is 
mentioned  even  by  TertuUian." 


CHAP,  n.]  CAUSES  OF  PERSECUTION.  298 

WHle  this  war  was  still  undecided,  a  new  danger 
threatened  the  Emperor,  from  the  East.  Avidius  Cas- 
vuus,  the  conqueror  of  the  Parthians,  rebelled,  and  was 
proclaimed  Emperor.  As  he  was  unquestionably  supe- 
rior to  the  Emperor  as  a  general,  and  possessed  an 
energetic  character,  he  might,  at  the  head  of  the  Ori- 
ental army,  have  proved  a  dangerous  rival.  Maicus 
Aurelius  accordingly  concluded  a  rather  unfavorable 
peace  with  the  Danubian  tribes  as  speedily  as  possible, 
and  hastened  eastward.  Avidius  Cassius  was  assassi- 
nated when  the  Emperor  was  still  a  long  way  off,  and 
thus  that  danger  was  removed ;  but  the  Emperor 
nevertheless  considered  it  necessary  to  pursue  his 
march,  in  order  to  re-establish  his  authority  in  the 
East.  The  impressions  there  received  do  not  seem 
to  have  been  cheering;  at  all  events,  the  Emperor's 
melancholy  disposition  grew  upon  him  from  this  time, 
and,  in  particular,  he  became  peculiarly  zealous  in 
heathen  rites,  a  trait  which  had  not  previously  char- 
acterized him  to  such  a  degree.  He  instituted  great 
lustrations  and  sacrifices  everywhere,  and,  in  Greece, 
was  initiated  into  the  mysteries.  But  in  Greece  the 
hunt  after  Christians  was  just  then  most  vigorously 
prosecuted.  "  For  what  reason,  men  of  Greece,"  Tatiau 
complains,  "  do  you  wish  to  bring  the  civil  powers,  as 
in  a  pugilistic  encounter,  into  collision  with  us  ?  And 
why  .  .  .  am  I  to  be  abhorred  as  a  vile  miscreant  ?  "  *■ 
From  the  writings  of  Celsus,  we  can  see  what  aspect 
of  the  case  was  probably  laid  before  the  Emperor. 
The  Christians  were  responsible  for  the  distress  of  the 
Empire ;  they  alone  refused  the  State  their  assistance 
at  a  time  when  all  sources  of  strength  must  be  drawn 
apon,  in  order  to  resist  the  foe.    The  rapid  growth  of 


294  PERSECUTION  UNDER  M.  AURELIUS.       [book  a 

the  Church  was  pointed  out,  and  the  large  numbers 
who  already  were  Chi_stians.  If  this  were  to  proceed 
at  the  same  rate  (it  was  stated),  the  Emperor  would 
soon  stand  alone,  and  the  Empire  become  the  prey  of 
the  barbarians.  Such  words  would  find  a  ready  ac- 
ceptance with  the  Emperor,  whose  antipathy  to  the 
Christians  would  not  fail  to  be  fostered  by  his  teachers 
and  ii lends,  Fronto  and  the  city  prefect  Junius  Rusti- 
CU3  who  is  so  often  named  in  connection  with  the  perse- 
cution of  the  Christians.  The  restoration  of  Roman 
virtue,  and  of  the  Roman  Empire,  still  floated  before 
him  as  the  supreme  object  of  his  life ;  but,  if  that  goal 
was  to  be  reached,  these  false  Romans  must  be  extir- 
pated. 

Therefore  Marcus  Aurelius  issued  a  rescript  ^  which 
went  far  beyond  the  regulations  of  Trajan.  We  do 
not  know  its  exact  tenor,  but  Melito  calls  it  barbar- 
ously cruel.  Though  a  general  persecution  was  not 
directly  ordered,  yet  the  decree  that  the  accusers  of 
the  Christians  should  come  into  possession  of  their 
property  practically  instigated  an  almost  universal  per- 
secution. For  not  only  were  accusations  multiplied  by 
persons  in  private  life  who  coveted  the  property  of  the 
Christians,  but  the  officials  themselves  made  haste  to 
earn  the  reward  of  Judas.  Now,  as  never  before,  the 
Christians  were  sought  out  everywhere,  brought  to 
^al,  often  executed  with  the  greatest  cruelty,  and 
liheir  property  confiscated. 

We  gain  an  idea  of  how  much  more  severe  this  was 
than  all  previous  persecutions,  when  we  read  ihe  letter 
in  which  the  churches  of  Lugdunum  (Lyons)  ard  Vienna 
narrate  the  sto/y  of  their  sufferings.*^  The  people  be- 
gan by  insulting  the   Christians,  throwing   stones  at 


CHAP,  n.]        MABTYES  OP  LYONS  AND  VIBNNB.  295 

them,  aid  plundering  their  houses.  Next  a  numbei 
were  imprisoned,  and  the  attempt  was  made  to  extort 
confessions  from  them  by  means  of  various  tortures  and 
torments.  Most  of  them  held  out ;  but  a  few  aposta- 
tized, to  the  great  sorrow  of  the  Church.  Worse  than 
this,  slaves  of  Christian  masters  stated  on  the  rack 
that  the  stories  of  atrocities  practised  by  the  Christiana 
in  secret  were  true.  Thus  the  proofs  of  impiety  were 
secured,  and  the  rage  of  the  heathen  rose  to  the  high- 
est pitch.  They  sought  by  the  most  horrible  tortures 
to  extract  the  same  disclosures  from  the  Christians. 
They  were  tormented  the  whole  day  long,  till  the  exe- 
cutioners were  weary,  but  they  remained  true  to  their 
faith.  Blandina,  a  delicate  maiden,  to  all  the  questions 
answered  only:  "I  am  a  Christian!  Among  us  no 
wickedness  is  committed,"  and  still  repeated  this  re- 
sponse when  every  species  of  torture  had  been  tried  on 
her,  and,  bleeding  and  mangled,  she  scarcely  continued 
to  breathe.  Ponticus,  a  boy,  notwithstanding  his  youth 
(he  was  but  fifteen),  bore  all  the  tortures  unflinchingly. 
His  own  sister  stood  by  his  side,  and  exhorted  him  to 
steadfastness.  Pothinus,  the  bishop  of  Lyons,  a  man 
over  ninety  years  old,  in  reply  to  the  legate's  question, 
"Who  is  the  God  of  the  Christians?"  hurled  back  the 
bold  answer,  "If  thou  art  worthy  thou  shalt  know." 
He  was  tortured  so  severely  that  he  died  in  prison  two 
days  afterwards.  Even  those  who  h^d  at  first  recanted 
were  so  inspired  by  these  examples,  that  tney  sum- 
moned courage  to  re-affirm  their  faith.  Since  there  were 
Roman  citizens  among  the  accused,  the  legate  sent  for 
orders  from  Rome ;  and,  by  command  of  the  Emperor, 
the  Roman  citizens  died  by  the  sword,  while  the  rest 
wei-e  thrown  to  the  wild  beasts.    From  far  and  near  the 


296  PERSECUTION  U]SJ)EE  M.  AUBELIUS.       [book  n 

heathen  flocked  together  ^  this  spectacle.  AV  the  con 
demned  met  their  death  with  great  joy ;  and  the  last 
to  suffer  was  Blaudina,  who  had  beeu  a  spectator  of  the 
deaths  of  all  the  rest,  and  had  encouraged  and  exhorted 
the  brethren.  With  joy  and  thanksgiving  she  entered 
the  arena  as  though  she  were  going  to  her  nuptials  in- 
stead of  to  be  thrown  to  the  wild  beasts.  Enclosed  in 
a  net  she  was  exposed  to  the  fury  of  a  wild  bull,  and, 
after  being  several  times  tossed  into  the  air  from  its 
horns,  was  put  to  death.  Even  the  heathen  conceded 
that  never  woman  among  them  had  shown  such  endur- 
ance, and  the  Church  added,  "  Thus  the  Lord  glorified 
himself  in  those  who  seemed  weak  and  insignificant  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world."  The  bodies  of  the  martyrs 
were  burned,  and  their  ashes  thrown  into  the  Rhone. 
"Now  we  shall  see  if  they  will  rise  again,"  said  the 
heathen  mockingly. 

The  picture  here  spread  before  us  was  only  a  single 
scene  of  this  terrible  drama.  In  vain  did  the  Apolo- 
gists, Melito,  Miltiades,  and  Athenagoras  lift  up  their 
voices.  The  persecution  extended  throughout  the  en- 
tire empire,  an  early  prelude  of  the  subsequent  general 
persecutions.  "The  demon"  (of  the  Christians),  Cel- 
sus  exultingly  asserts,  "  is  not  only  reviled,  but  banished 
from  every  land  and  sea,  and  those  who  like  images  are 
consecrated  to  him  are  bound  and  led  to  punishment 
and  impaled  Qor  crucified) ,  whilst  the  demon — or,  as  you 
eall  him,  the  Son  of  God  —  takes  no  vengeance  on  the 
evil  doer."  Celsus  saw  in  this  the  fulfilment  of  the 
saying  of  Apollo's  priest :  "  The  mills  of  the  gods  grind 
late,"  and  he  scornfully  points  to  the  fate  of  the  wor- 
shippers of  the  one  God.  "  They  (the  Jews),  instead 
of  being  masters  of  the  whole  world,  are  left  with  not 


OHiF.  n.]  OBLSUS  AND  HIS  BOOK.  297 

BO  much  as  a  patch  of  ground  or  a  hearth ;  and  of  you 
Cthe  Christians)  one  or  two  may  be  wandering  in  secret 
Lilt  they  are  being  sought  out  to  be  punished  with 
death."  *« 

IV,     THE   FIRST   SIGNS   OP   VICTORT. 

In  all  his  exultation  over  the  destruction  of  the 
Christians,  Celsus  must  still  have  felt  that  this  persecu- 
tion had  not  exterminated  them,  and  would  not  do  so. 
Otherwise  why  did  he  choose  just  this  time  to  make  a 
literary  attack  on  them  ?  For,  in  all  probability,  the 
famous,  or  rather  infamous,  treatise  which  he  published 
under  the  title,  "A  True  Discourse,"  belongs  to  this 
very  time.  It  is  no  longer  extant  in  a  perfect  form  (in 
later  times  Christian  zeal  considered  its  destruction  a 
duty),  but  yet  we  can  reconstruct  it  with  tolerable 
completeness  from  the  reply  of  Origen.  In  reading  it 
we  are  filled  with  astonishment;  not  simply  because 
Celsus  evidently  has  so  accurate  a  knowledge  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  is  well  read  in  both  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments ;  nor  yet  because  of  the  almost  unequalled 
measure  of  venomous  hatred  which  he  displays,  chiefly 
against  Christ  himself:  but  principally  because  of  the 
acuteness  with  which  this  heathen  philosopher  hit  upon 
the  really  decisive  issue ;  and  yet  more,  because  in  this, 
the  oldest  polemical  writing  against  the  Christian  faith 
whose  contents  we  know,  every  argu  ment  is  to  be  found 
which  has  been  brought  against  it  up  to  the  present 
time. 

According  to  a  carefully  laid  plan,  Celsus  begins  b;y 
representing  Christianity  as  combated  by  a  Jew,  and 
then  afterwards  himself  comes  forward  to  attack  both 
Judaism  and  Christianity.    In  this  way  he  is  enabled 


298  FIBST  SIGNS  OF  VICTOEY.  [hOOK  n 

not  only  to  irake  capital  out  of  the  Jswish  hatred  of 
Christ,  and  all  the  lies  concerning  him  promulgated  by 
it,  but  also  to  use  Judaism  as  a  foil  to  Christianit}^,  in 
order  to  make  the  latter  appear  still  worse  and  moie 
worthless.  Judaism  indeed  was  an  apostasy  from  the 
religion  of  the  fathers,  but  it  was  at  least  a  national 
faith,  it  contained  an  element  of  patriotism ;  but  Chris- 
tianity, rn  the  contrary,  which  arose  out  of  anothei 
apostasy,  from  Judaism,  and  thus  capped  the  climax  of 
folly,  was  sheer  sedition,  open  rebellion. 

As  we  have  already  indicated,  the  hatred  of  Celsus 
was  chiefly  displayed  against  our  Lord  Himself.  He 
found  in  Him  nothing  that  is  good.  He  regarded  Him 
as  merely  a  common  swindler  and  charlatan.  Born  of 
a  poor  peasant-woman,  who  had  to  spin  for  her  living, 
and  who  lived  in  adultery  with  a  soldier,  Panthera  by 
name,  He  learnt  the  magic  art  in  Egypt,  and  by  means 
of  it  gained  some  adherents  from  the  lowest  classes, 
publicans  and  fishermen.  He  deceived  them  into  the 
belief  that  He  was  the  Son  of  God  and  born  of  a 
virgin,  led  with  them  the  life  of  a  wretched  outcast; 
finally  (so  small  was  His  power  even  over  His  own 
adherents)  He  was  betrayed  by  one  of  His  disciples, 
denied  by  another,  and  came  to  a  cowardly  and  shame- 
ful end.  This  "pestilent  fellow,"  "boaster,"  "magi- 
cian," never  did  any  thing  great,  but  only  practised 
a  few  magic  arts,  and  everi  in  these  was  inferior  to 
others.  He  did  many  evii  and  wicked  actions,  only 
Celsus  is  unable  to  say  just  what  they  were.  The 
Bt Dries  told  of  Him  in  the  Gospels  are  founded  partly  on 
His  own  lies,  partly  on  those  of  His  disciples.  It  is  true 
He  is  said  to  have  predicted  His  suffering,  and  also  the 
betrayal  and  the  denial,  but  (Celsus  exp  ains)  the  very 


CHAP,  n.]  CBLSUS  ON  THE  RESURRECTION.  299 

fact  that  it  so  came  to  pass  is  itself  a  proof  that  it 
could  not  have  been  predicted.  For,  how  could  those 
to  whom  it  had  been  predicted  out  of  His  own  mouth, 
yet  betray  and  deny  Him  ?  If  He  as  God  predicted  it, 
then  it  must  so  happen,  and  those  who  did  it  were  led 
into  this  impiety  by  Himself,  the  God.  And  if  it  was 
necessary  that  it  should  so  happen,  and  He  obediently 
submitted  Himself  to  the  will  of  His  Father,  why  then 
did  He  so  lament  and  ask  for  help  in  Gethsemane  ?  It 
may  be  true  that  He  told  His  disciples  He  would  rise 
again,  but  others  have  made  similar  vain  boasts.  Be- 
sides we  learn,  from  the  myths,  of  men  who  have  risen 
again.  All  such  stories  are  pure  myths.  "  Or  do  you 
suppose  the  statements  of  others  both  are  myths  and 
are  so  regarded,  while  you  have  invented  a  becoming 
and  credible  catastrophe  to  your  drama  in  the  voice 
from  the  cross  when  He  expired  and  in  the  earthquake 
and  the  darkness?  That  while  alive  He  was  of  no 
assistance  to  Himself,  but  that  when  dead  He  rose  again 
and  showed  the  marks  of  His  punishment,  and  how  His 
hands  were  pierced  with  naila:  who  beheld  this?  A 
half-crazy  woman,  as  you  state,  and  some  other  one 
perhaps  of  those  who  were  engaged  in  the  system  of 
delusion,  who  had  either  dreamed  so,  owing  to  a  pecul- 
iar state  of  mind,  or  under  the  influence  of  a  wander- 
ing imagination  had  formed  to  himself  an  appearance 
according  to  his  own  wishes,  which  has  been  the  case 
with  numberless  individuals ;  or,  which  is  most  probar 
ble,  one  who  desired  to  impress  others  with  this  portent 
and  by  such  a  falsehood  to  furnish  an  occasion  to  im- 
postors like  himself."  ^^  If  He  had  really  risen,  Celsus 
asserts,  He  would  certainly  have  appeared  before  Hia 
judges  and  th(3  public  in  general ;  and  he  finds  it  very 


300  FIRST  SIGNS  OF  VICTORY.  [book  n 

Btrauge  that  Jesus  during  His  life  preached  to  all,  and 
found  no  acceptance,  but  that  when  He  had  risen,  and 
could  so  easily  have  induced  all  to  believe  on  Him,  He 
appeared  only  to  one  insignificant  woman  and  to  His 
associates,  and  that  secretly  and  timidly.^  We  hardly 
need  to  point  out  that  here  we  have  the  very  same 
things  which  are  promulgated  at  the  present  day  as 
the  surest  results  of  the  most  recent  science.  Here  we 
Lave  Renan's  '-'-femme  hallucinie^''  the  hypothesis  of 
visions  most  completely  developed;  and  besides,  in 
o^der  that  the  other  theory,  which  boasts  that  it  is  the 
properly  spiritual  conception,  may  not  be  omitted,  Cel- 
sus  in  other  places  concedes  that  the  dead  Christ  may 
have  truly  appeared,  not  as  one  risen  in  bodily  form, 
but  as  a  ghost. 

We  have  seen  that  the  hatred  which  Celsus  cher- 
ished against  Christianity  had  its  root  in  the  fact  that 
the  God  of  the  Christians  is  a  sinners'  God,  and  that 
Christianity  was  a  religion  of  the  poor,  the  slaves,  the 
miserable.  A  God  who  takes  pity  upon  sinners,  and 
on  the  other  hand  turns  away  from  proud  and  self- 
reliant  souls,  seemed  to  the  heathen  to  reverse  all  con- 
ceptions of  God.  The  gods  of  the  heathen  neither  give 
nor  receive  love,  and  the  strict  justice  attributed  to 
them  makes  forgiveness  impossible.  Therefore  Celsus 
directs  his  polemic  principally  against  this  God,  who 
takes  the  part  of  the  wretched,  who  stretches  out  His 
arms  towards  those  who  suffer  and  weep,  and  who  does 
not  repulse  even  the  guilty. 

He  regards  as  the  central  point  of  all  Christianity 
(and  rightly)  the  belief  that  God  has  really  come  down 
from  heaven  to  redeem  men.  In  the  eyes  of  the  phi- 
losopher this  belief  is  the  most  absurd  thing  conceivable 


CHAP  n.]  TELEOLOGY  OF  CELSUS.  801 

" '  What  is  the  meaning  of  such  a  descent  on  the  pari 
of  God  unless  in  order  to  learn  what  goes  on  among 
men  ?  Does  He  then  not  know  all  ? '  Then  as  if  we 
(the  Christians)  answered, '  He  does  know  all,'  he  raises 
a  new  question,  saying, '  Then  He  does  know  all  things, 
but  does  not  improve  their  condition,  nor  is  it  possible 
for  Him  by  divine  power  to  do  so  .  .  .  without  sending 
some  one  in  bodily  form  for  that  purpose.' "  ®^  If  He 
descended  then  He  must  have  left  His  place  in  heaven 
empty,  and  His  coming  into  the  world  would  bring  a 
revolution,  "  for  if  thou  shouldest  change  a  single  thing, 
even  the  smallest  on  earth,  all  would  be  overturned 
and  go  to  ruin." 

But  Celsus  attempts  a  yet  more  serious  attack  on 
this  principal  article  of  the  Christian  faith.  It  is 
founded  on  the  belief  of  the  Christians  that  the  world 
was  made  for  the  sake  of  men,  and  they  are  special 
objects  of  God's  care.  This  seems  to  him  so  ridicu- 
lous that  he  compares  the  whole  tribe  of  Jews  and 
Christians  to  frogs  and  worms  who  hold  an  assembly 
by  a  puddle,  and  quarrel.  The  frogs  say,  "  God  first 
reveals  every  thing  to  us,  and  tells  it  beforehand,  and 
He  forsakes  the  whole  earth  and  the  celestial  sphere, 
and  dwells  only  in  our  midst."  Then  the  worms  re- 
join :  "  There  is  one  God,  and  next  to  Him  we  come, 
who  have  derived  our  being  from  Him,  and  are  in  all 
respects  like  Him,  and  every  thing  is  subject  to  us, 
earth,  water,  air,  and  stars;  all  things  exist  for  oui 
sake,  and  were  arranged  to  accommodate  us  I  And 
now,  since  some  of  us  transgress,  God  will  come  or 
send  His  Son  to  burn  the  unjust  and  to  give  the  rest 
of  mi  eternal  life  with  Him."®^  Celsus  declares  that 
it  is  pride  to  suppose  that  God  made  all  things  for 


802  FIRST  SIGNS  OF  VICTORY.  [book  u 

man's  sake.  From  natural  history,  from  the  acute  fao 
ulties  of  many  animals,  it  nay  be  shown  that  all  things 
were  created  as  much  for  them  as  for  man.  Celsus 
even  labors  to  show  that  animals  in  many  respects 
stand  higher  than  men,  and  that  men  are  in  subjection 
to  animals.  The  bees  have  a  ruler  and  build  towns, 
the  ants  lay  up  for  the  winter  and  bury  their  dead, 
the  snakes  and  the  eagles  understand  magic  arts.  The 
birds  foresee  the  future  and  give  signs  of  it  in  their 
flight.  Not  even  is  piety  a  prerogative  of  man.  No 
beings  are  more  faithful  to  an  oath  than  the  elephants^ 
and  the  storks  surpass  men  in  piety. 

In  fine  —  and  this  is  the  culmination  of  his  argument 
—  Celsus  denies  that  the  world  has  any  purpose  at  all. 
"Therefore  all  things  accordingly  were  not  made  for 
man  any  more  than  they  were  made  for  lions  or  eagles 
or  dolphins,  but  that  this  world,  as  being  God's  work, 
might  be  perfect  and  entire  in  all  respects.  For  this 
reason  all  things  have  been  adjusted  not  with  reference 
to  each  other,  but  with  regard  to  their  bearing  upon  the 
whole.  And  God  takes  care  of  the  whole,  and  his 
providence  will  never  forsake  it;  and  it  does  not 
become  worse ;  nor  does  God  after  a  time  bring  it  back 
to  himself;  nor  is  he  angry  on  account  of  men  any 
more  than  on  account  of  apes  and  flies.  Nor  does  he 
threaten  these  beings,  each  one  of  whom  has  received 
its  appointed  lo;  in  its  proper  place."  The  world,  he 
explains  in  another  place,  remains  ever  the  same. 
"  There  neither  were  formerly,  nor  are  there  now,  nor 
will  there  be  again,  more  or  fewer  evils  in  the  world. 
For  the  nature  of  all  things  is  one  and  the  same,  and 
the  generation  of  evils  is  always  the  same."  ^  Indeed, 
'f  Celsus  had  been  right  Christianity  would  have  been 


CHAP,  n.]  CBLSUS  ^SD  STRAUSS.  803 

refuted  in  its  very  foundation,  for  that  is  nothing  other 
than  the  belief  in  this  divine  deed,  that  God  has  taken 
the  part  of  the  human  race,  and  has  redeemed  and  re- 
stored a  sinful  world  by  the  sending  of  his  Son. 

There  is  a  very  striking  coincidence  here  between  the 
most  ancient  antagonist  of  Christianity  and  Strauss, 
its  most  modern  foe.  Just  as  with  Celsus,  so  with 
Strauss,  the  principal  argument  against  Christianity  is 
the  impenetrable  connection  of  the  order  of  nature; 
and  like  the  former,  so  the  latter  finally  arrives  at  deny- 
ing any  design  in  the  world.  Its  purpose  is  that  it  is* 
There  will  come,  he  explains,  a  time  when  the  earth 
will  no  longer  be  inhabited,  yea,  when  the  very  planet 
will  no  longer  exist,  and  when  not  only  all  earthly 
things,  all  human  occupations  and  achievements,  all 
nationalities,  works  of  art  and  science,  shall  have  van- 
ished, but  not  even  a  recollection  of  it  all  shall  endure 
in  any  spirit,  since  with  this  earth,  its  history  must 
naturally  perish.  Then  either  the  earth  has  failed  to 
accomplish  its  purpose,  since  nothing  has  been  evolved 
in  its  existence,  or  that  purpose  did  not  consist  in  any 
thing  which  should  endure,  but  was  accomplished  at 
every  moment  of  the  world's  development.  Like  Cel- 
sus, Strauss  denies  any  improvement  or  deterioration 
in  the  world.  The  same  statement  which  we  have  just 
read  in  Celsus,  we  read  again  in  "  The  Old  Faith  and 
the  New "  by  Strauss.^  "  The  universe  is  in  no  suc- 
ceeding moment  more  perfect  than  in  the  preceding, 
nor  viee  versa.''  So  exactly  indeed  do  these  two  antag* 
onists  of  Christianity  agree,  that,  like  Celsus,  Strauss 
endeavors  to  obliterate  the  distinction  between  man 
and  animal.  "  The  chasm  between  man  and  animal,'* 
he  says,  "was  first  opened  by  Juiaism  which  -^  hostile 


804  FIRST  SIGNS  OF  VICTORY.  [book  n. 

to  the  gods  of  nature,  and  by  Christianity  which  ia 
flualistic  ; "  and  it  sounds  like  the  voice  of  Celsus  when 
we  read:  "the  more  carefully  the  life  and  habits  cf  any 
species  of  animals  are  observed,  the  more  does  the  ob- 
server find  reason  to  speak  of  their  understanding.  .  .  . 
A  kind  of  sense  of  honor,  a  sort  of  conscience,  is  hardly 
to  be  ignored  in  the  better  bred  and  cared-for  horses 
and  dogs."  Strauss  discovers  even  "the  rudiments  of 
the  higher  moral  faculties  "  in  animals,  and  bees,  ants, 
and  elephants  play  the  same  parts  in  his  argument,  as 
with  Celsus.^ 

It  has  seemed  of  interest  for  once  to  bring  out  the 
parallel  between  this  time  of  the  Church's  conflict  and 
the  present  day,  which  I  have  elsewhere  purposely 
refrained  from  doing.  Do  the  modern  enemies  of  our 
faith  know  of  no  objections  to  bring  forward,  except 
those  which  were  advanced  by  our  first  antagonist 
seventeen  hundred  years  ago?  If  so,  then  they  are 
refuted  before  they  write.  For  Celsus  is  refuted,  I  do 
not  mean  by  Origen's  answer,  though  this  presses  him 
very  hard,  but  by  the  fact  that  the  faith  he  scorned  has 
iriumphed. 

Even  Celsus  seems  to  have  trembled  with  a  forebod- 
ing of  this  coming  triumph.  He  was  unable  to  deny 
that  among  the  Christians  "there  are  some  men,  sen- 
sible, well-disposed,  intelligent,  and  skilled  in  allegorical 
interpretation."  ^^  And  while  on  the  one  hand  he  pro 
claimed  that  the  Founder  of  Christianity  was  only  a 
swindler,  yet  on  the  other  hand  he  considered  the 
religion  as  a  kind  of  philosophy,  and  thus  at  least 
compared  it  to  the  grandest  thing  known  to  ihe  ancient 
world.  Also  his  oft-expressed  fear  of  the  magic  arts 
of  tke  Christians  shows  that  he  could  not  deny  the 


CHAT,  n.]  CBLSUS  COMPROMISES.  806 

existence  of  a  power  in  Christianity,  though,  in  con- 
sistency with  his  other  views,  he  regarded  it  as  only 
magical.  The  most  important  fact  is  that  Celsus  shows 
lie  is  not  quite  secure  in  his  own  belief.  He  defends 
Polytheism  with  the  air  of  being  ashamed  of  it,  and 
introduces  considerable  modifications  into  it.  He  ex- 
pressly warns  men  against  excessive  zeal  in  serving  the 
gods.  "The  more  correct  view  is  that  the  demons 
(subordinate  deities)  desire  nothing  and  have  need  of 
nothing,  but  that  they  take  pleasure  in  those  who  dis- 
charge towards  them  offices  of  piety."  The  principal 
thing  is  "  never  in  any  way  to  lose  our  hold  upon  God 
whether  by  day  or  by  night,  whether  in  public  or  in 
secret,  whether  in  word  or  in  deed,  but  in  whatever  we 
do  or  abstain  from  doing  ...  to  let  the  soul  be  con- 
stantly fixed  upon  God."^  Here  Polytheism  is  com- 
pletely abandoned.  Celsus  himself  has  already  lost 
faith  in  it,  and  has  evidently  a  suspicion  that  he  is  the 
champion  of  a  lost  cause.  His  whole  book  is  indeed  a 
prediction  of  victory  for  Christianity. 

Thus  we  can  understand  how  Celsus,  with  all  his 
bitter  hatred  of  Christianity,  yet  finally  proposed  a 
kind  of  compromise  to  the  Christians.  They  were  to 
have  toleration,  even  freedom  to  serve  the  one  supreme 
God,  if  they  would  also  worship  the  demons,  the  sub 
ordinate  gods  which  are  set  over  particular  departments 
in  this  world,  and  if  they  would  make  up  their  minds 
to  honor  the  Emperor  and  to  help  him  in  this  time  of 
difficulty  by  participatirg  in  the  efi'orts  and  burdens  of 
the  Roman  Empire.  Celsus  took  great  pains  to  renier 
this  compromise  acceptable  to  the  Christians.  He  set 
himself  to  work  to  bring  philosophy  and  the  Christian 
faith  nearer  together.    It  was  not  much  that  he  asked- 


806  FIRST  SIGNS  OF  VICTORY  [book  u 

They  might  remain  Christians  in  all  else,  worship  the 
supreme  God  as  before,  if  they  would  only  also  pay  to 
the  demons  the  honors  which  were  their  due.  It  was 
not  as  if  they  were  required  to  do  any  thing  disgrace- 
ful. What  impiety  could  there  be  in  singing  a  beauti- 
ful hymn  to  Athene?  In  her  the  supreme  God  was 
really  worshipped.  Or,  what  impiety  was  there  in 
swearing  by  the  Genius  of  the  Emperor?  Had  not 
God  given  him  his  power  ?  Did  he  not  issue  his  com- 
mands by  God's  permission,  and  under  His  authority? 
But  in  case  the  Christians  should  resist  these  advances, 
Celsus  threatened  them  with  force  —  they  were  to  be 
utterly  exterminated.  The  Christians  might  take  their 
choice  :  Peace  or  war?^ 

To  the  Christians  there  was  of  course  no  choice 
They  could  not  accept  the  compromise.  The  worship 
of  the  supreme  God  excluded  the  worship  of  the 
demons,  and  Christianity  must  be  more  than  a  religion 
tolerated  side  by  side  with  others.  The  deification  of 
the  powers  of  nature  and  of  the  Emperor  would  have 
made  Christianity  into  a  new  Heathenism.  Yet  the 
Christians  would  one  day  share  the  efforts  and  burdens 
of  the  Empire ;  yea,  they  were  one  day  to  become  its 
strongest  support.  A  time  was  to  come,  when  the  old 
and  tottering  Empire  would  seek  and  find  in  the  youth- 
ful strength  of  Christianity  the  basis  of  a  new  life.  But 
that  time  was  yet  distant.  For  the  present  the  Chris- 
tians could  do  nothing  but  suffer.  The  persecution 
under  Marcus  Aurelius  was,  it  is  true,  as  brief  as  it 
was  severe.  The  terrible  war  on  the  Danube  began 
again.  The  Emperor  marched  thither  never  to  return, 
and  his  successor  Commodus  was  entirely  different  from 
bim.    The  persecution  ceased  again.     But  it  had  be- 


CHAP.  U.J  THE  CHURCH'S  FUTURE.  307 

come  clear  that  the  Christians  had  been  mistaken  in 
basing  their  hopes  of  tranquillity  on  the  gentleness  and 
justice  of  the  Emperor's  personal  character.  Even  if 
the  Emperor  of  himself  were  favorably  disposed,  the 
time  was  not  yet  come.  Heathenism  must  yet  pass 
through  further  developments  before  it  would  bow  be- 
fore the  Cross.  Christianity  must  pass  through  other 
conflicts  before  the  victory  could  be  won.  All  the  con- 
flicts of  the  past  had  been  only  isolated  skirmishes. 
They  were  not  enough.  The  great  battle  was  still  to 
be  fought.  The  Church  must  enter  upon  the  terrors 
and  distresses  of  a  general  persecution. 

We  are  filled  with  sorrow  when  we  think  of  the  rivers 
of  blood  which  were  still  to  flow.  But  thiswas  God's 
^lafiju  and  it  was  good.  Christianity  must  go  through 
the  whole  conflict,  and  owe  its  victory  not  to  any  for- 
tunate circumstance  nor  to  the  personal  favor  of  any 
Emperor,  but  solely  and  wholly  to  its  own  indwelling 
powers.  Thus  only  could  the  victory  be  a  real  victory ; 
thus  only  could  the  Church  reap  for  all  time  the  full 
benefit  of  this  conflict  and  of  this  victory. 

But  the  great  battle,  as  I  called  it,  came  not  yet. 
Next  after  the  stormy  reign  of  Marcus  Aurelius  came  a 
period  of  comparative  quiet.  In  this  period  the  internal 
development  of  Heathenism  and  of  Christianity  was 
accomplished,  and  not  until  then  were  the  antagonists 
in  a  position  to  summon  all  their  powers,  and  measun 
their  strength  against  each  other. 


CHAPTER  m. 

THE  RE-ACTION. 

"  Professing  themselves  to  be  wise,  they  became  fools."  —  BOM.  L  Bl. 
"  The  Spirit  of  truth  .  .  .  will  guide  you  into  all  truth"  —  JoHir  xvl.  8 

I.     THE  INTERNAL  RE-ACTION  IN   HEATHENKM. 

We  should  have  an  entirely  false  idea  of  the  Titanic 
struggle  between  Christianity  and  Heathenism  if  we 
were  to  imagine  the  two  antagonists  as  remaining  in 
the  same  positions  throughout.  The  conflict  endured 
too  long  for  that,  for  it  lasted  three  centuries.  In  this 
time  both  Christianity  and  Heathenism  underwent  a 
great  development,  and  when  the  last  decisive  battle 
was  fought  they  had  both  become  entirely  different 
from  what  they  were  when  the  struggle  began.  Only 
when  this  is  taken  into  account,  is  it  possible  to  under- 
stand and  to  appreciate  the  victory  of  Christianity. 
For  this  victory  was  by  no  means  a  mere  outward 
displacement  of  Heathenism,  but  an  inward  conquest. 
Hence  before  we  go  further  we  must  try  to  gain  a  view 
of  the  great  re-action  which,  in  both  Heathenism  and 
Christianity,  was  prepared  in  the  second  century  and 
showed  itself  in  the  third;  and  which  first  puts  the 
ao6 


OMAP.  m.)  INCREASED  SUPERSTITION.  809 

antagonists  into  such  a  position  as  to  bring  the  crisis  of 
the  conflict.  On  the  part  of  Heathenism  the  re-action 
may  be  briefly  designated  as  a  restoration ;  or,  to  indi- 
cate in  general  the  real  nature  of  this  restoration,  the 
change  that  now  took  place  consisted  in  the  substitu- 
tion of  superstition  for  scepticism.  This  was  a  per- 
fectly natural  development.  The  restoration  was  only 
a  necessary  stage  in  the  fall  of  Heathenism,  a  symptom 
of  its  waning  power.  Once  more  the  heathen  State 
summoned  all  its  forces  in  order  to  withstand  the 
antagonist  who  was  growing  stronger  and  stronger. 
Scepticism  necessarily  brings  forth  superstition  as  its  ' 
complement.  Neither  an  individual  nor  a  people  can 
(ong  endure  the  emptiness  of  unbelief.  It  is  impossible 
to  live  in  a  vacuum.  And  so  the  space  emptied  by 
scepticism  fills  up  with  superstition.  The  denial  of  the 
true  leads  by  an  internal  necessity  to  the  affirmation  of  • 
the  false.  This  change,  which  must  come  in  the  course 
of  development,  was  greatly  hastened  by  the  position 
of  affairs.  When  Marcus  Aurelius,  attacked  by  the 
plague,  lay  upon  his  death-bed,  and  his  friends  stood 
round  him  weeping ;  "  Weep  not  for  me,"  said  the 
Emperor,  "  weep  over  the  plague  and  the  general  mis- 
ery." ^  In  the  time  of  Commodus  the  rottenness  of 
the  Empire,  hitherto  hardly  concealed,  and  unremedied 
even  by  the  best  of  the  Emperors,  came  to  light  with 
an  awful  suddenness.  A  reign  of  terror  set  in,  from 
the  time  when  the  son  of  Marcus  Aurelius  was  seized 
with  the  frenzy  of  despotism.  This  imperial  madness 
attacked  almost  all  whom  chance  or  fortune  placed  on 
the  dizzy  height  of  the  imperial  throne,  and  endowed 
with  such  an  unlimited  range  of  power  as  only  the 
Btrongest  souls  could  possess  without  inward  ruin  — 


310  RE-ACTTON  IN  HEATHENISM.  C»0OK  n 

until  it  finally  culminated  in  the  production  of  monsters 
like  Elagabalus  and  Caracalla.  In  bloodthirsty  cruelty 
and  linlimited  debauchery  the  Emperors  endeavored  to 
exhaust  the  joys  of  that  uncertain  possession,  the 
throne.  The  last  vestiges  which  seemed  to  perpetuate 
the  Republic  were  obliterated,  while  no  real  monarchy 
took  its  place,  but  a  Caesarism  of  the  worst  description. 
Not  only  was  there  no  dynasty  in  which  the  throne  was 
hereditary,  but  worse  still,  there  was  not  even  any  set> 
tied  rule  as  to  who  should  have  the  right  to  nominate 
the  Emperor.     The  Senate  had  in  a  certain  sense  the 

*  historical  right  on  its  side,  but  the  Praetorian  guard 
usurped  the  position,  and  its  power  increased  with  the 
wickedness  of  the  Emperors.  For,  the  worse  the  Em- 
peror's character,  the  more  he  needed  the  protection  of 
the  Praetorian  body-guard,  and  hence  the  greater  the 
•favors  shown  to  it.  Then  the  legions  in  the  provinces 
also  took  their  turn  at  electing  Emperors;  and,  since 
each  new  usurper  tried  to  keep  the  soldiers  on  his  side 
by  bribes  greater  than  those  of  his  rival,  they  soon 
found  that  their  best  advantage  lay  in  having  the  reigns 
as  brief  as  possible,  till  finally  the  position  of  Emperor 
was  sold  at  public  auction  to  the  highest  bidder. 

The  last  words  of  Septimius  Severus  were  :  "  Enrich 
the  soldiers,  and  ignore  the  rest."  ^  With  him  began  the 
military  monarchy,  which,  with  a  few  intervals  when 
the  old  imperial  madness  re-appeared,  produced  a  suc- 
cession of  great  soldiers  under  whose  rule  the  State  was 

'  saved  from  ruin.  But  it  was  an  age  of  iron,  the  whole 
Empire  stood  to  its  arms,  everywhere  there  was  war. 
Sometimes  it  seemed  as  if  all  order  was  about  to  give 
place  to  chaos.  Whole  provinces  detached  themselves 
from  the  Empire,  and  chose  Emperors  of  their  own 


CHAT.  ra.l  DEGENERACY  OF  THE  AGE.  811 

Often  there  were  so  many  usurpers  that  we  do  not  even 
know  all  their  names.  The  barbarians  were  beating 
against  the  frontier  like  a  storm,  the  Goths  had  already 
reached  Northern  Italy,  Gaul  remained  for  some  time 
in  the  possession  of  Teutonic  tribes,  till  the  great  gen 
erals  by  continuous  campaigns  brought  the  Roman* 
world  back  to  order.  Times  such  as  these,  in  which. 
all  is  wavering  and  uncertain,  in  which  the  highest  to- 
day are  to-morrow  the  lowest,  in  which  the  whole  world 
becomes  a  camp,  and  mighty  men  raise  themselves  from 
the  ranks  to  the  throne,  only  ere  long  to  yield  to  more 
fortunate  usurpers,  — ,such  times  are  exactly  adapted 
for  the  growth  and  maturity  of  superstition.  It  is  a 
general  rule,  that  times  of  success  chiefly  bring  forth 
doubt  and  scepticism  from  their  luxury  and  license. 
Not  less,  on  the  other  hand,  do  times  of  distress  stimu- 
late superstition  as  well  as  faith,  for,  the  more  uncertain 
the  things  of  earth  become,  the  more  earnestly  does 
man  seek  that  which  is  supernatural  and  miraculous. 

Besides  superstition,  corruption  spread  below  the  sur- 
face. That  the  world  was  growing  old,  was  an  ever- 
deepening  conviction  after  the  time  of  Marcus  Aure- 
lius.  The  heathen  themselves  were  conscious  of  it. 
They  often  complained  that  the  course  of  things  tended 
downwards.  Since  the  advent  of  Christianity,  they  • 
said,  all  blessings  had  taken  flight.  War,  pestilence,  • 
drought,  locusts,  famine,  everywhere  prevailed.  The 
Roman  Empire  grew  poorer  and  poorer.  Even  in  its 
best  days  the  financial  situation  of  the  Empire  had  been 
bad,  as  is  evident  from  the  two  facts  that  the  rate  of 
interest  did  not  decrease,  nor  did  the  population  in- 
crease. But  now  the  State  was  hurrying  onward  to 
the  precipice  of  financial  ruin.    The  cause  of  its  banb 


312  EB-ACTION  IN  HEATHENISM.  [book  a 

ruptcy  is  easily  comprehended.  It  lay  in  the  ancient 
contempt  for  labor,  in  the  practice  of  slaveholding,  and  J 
worse  ihan  all  in  the  fact  that  idleness  and  indolence 
were  privileged.  The  cities  where  no  work  was  done 
had  little  or  nothing  required  of  them,  the  Roman 
idlers  were  fed  by  the  State.  All  things,  "  bread  and 
games,"  came  from  the  State  and  were  expected  from 
it.  Great  cities  in  our  day  consimie  the  produce  of  the 
country,  but  they  pay  it  back  in  the  products  of  manu- 
facturing industry.  But  the  commerce  and  industry  of 
the  ancient  cities  were  essentially  unproductive.  Rome 
paid  its  debts  with  the  taxes  collected  from  the  prov- 
inces, that  is,  it  did  not  really  pay  them  at  all.  It  lived 
on  the  resources  of  the  provinces,  but  these  were  not 
inexhaustible.  In  the  peaceful  reigns  of  the  great 
Emperors  in  the  second  century,  this  waste  was  not 
noticed,  but  now  when  troublous  times  had  come,  when 
one  civil  war  succeeded  another,  when  Emperor  fought 
with  Emperor,  and  the  provinces  were  devastated  again 
and  again  —  then  the  financial  ruin  declared  itself. 
The  world  was  poverty-stricken,  because  free  labor,  the 
one  thing  which  creates  and  preserves  true  prosperity, 
was  unknown. 

But  the  degeneracy  of  the  time  was  not  merely 
material,  it  had  also  a  spiritual  side.  Freedom  and 
beauty,  the  two  foci  of  the  ancient  world's  life,  had 
vanished.  The  Emperors  of  the  second  century  had 
permitted  at  least  a  shadow  and  sembla'iice  of  freedom, 
so  that  men  still  might  dream  that  it  existed,  but  now 
even  that  disappeared.  The  wretches  who  now  occu- 
pied the  throne,  or  the  subsequent  Soldier-Emperors, 
who  had  reached  greatness  in  the  camp  and  put  their 
whole  trust  in  their  swords  —  what  did  they  care  about 


MAF.  m.]     DECAY  OP  ABT  AND  POETRY  313 

the  freedom  of  the  Roman  people?    Beauty  also  faded 
away ;  art  rapidly  degenerated.     Art  no  longer  created, 
it  did  not  even  reproduce,  at  its  best  it  only  multiplied 
repetitions.     Size  took  the  place  of  beauty.     Alexander 
Severus  set  up  a  number  of  gigantic  statues  in  Kome, 
and  Gallienus  wished  to  place  on  the  higi^est  site  in 
the  city  a  statue  two  hundred  feet  high,  representing  ^ 
himself  as  the  god  of  the  sun.     The  spear  in  its  hand 
was  to  be  so  massive  that  a  child  could  go  up   on  at. 
spiral  staircase  constructed  inside  of  it.     The  beautiful 
statues  of  the  ancient  gods  now  gave  place  to  horrid 
monstrosities.      Images   of   the   Ephesian   Diana  with  * 
innumerable   arms,  caricatures,  representations   of  the 
universal  god,  called  Pantheus,  took  the  place  of  the 
splendid  forms  which  Greek  art  had  created.     Poetry  • 
also  ceased.     The  Romance  displaced  the  Epic  and  the 
Drama.    Centos  from  Virgil,  that  is,  poems  put  together 
out  of  Virgil's  verses,  poems  of  various   shapes  (for 
instance,  one  which  when  written  had  the  form  of  a 
shepherd's  pipe),  and  similar  trifles,  now  won  the  popu- 
lar favor.     Philosophy  gave   way   to   rhetoric.     With 
the  reign  of  Septimius  Severus  the  ancient  philosophy 
came  to  an  end.     Men  degenerated  even  physically ;  at  * 
least,  one  cannot  help  noticing  that  the  portrait  busts  • 
and  statues  of  that  period  still  extant  display  an  in- 
creasing ugliness.     Their  forms  look  unhealthy,  either 
bloated  or  shrunken. 

Ir  short,  the  world  was  growing  old,  and  in  old  age 
became  pious.  Men  began  again  to  speak  of  the  goda 
with  all  seriousness,  ^lian  in  the  third  century  de- 
voted a  whole  book  to  instances  of  the  dreadful  fate 
of  the  gods'  enemies,  and  he  narrates  with  other  edify- 
ing legends  tha":  even  the  elephants  kneel  each  morning 


514  EE-ACTION  IN  HEATHENISM.  1.boo»  n 

and  pray.  Apuleius,  the  most  popular  novelist  of  the 
time,  rhapsodizes  in  the  most  enthusiastic  manner  on 
things  divine,  and  is  full  to  the  brim  of  superstition ; 
but  his  tales  have  a  sensual  tone,  while  his  piety, 
and  the  piety  of  his  time,  is  rather  like  that  of  a 
man  who,  after  a  youth  spent  in  profligacy,  becomes 
religious  in  old  age.  The  temples  were  again  diligently 
attended,  and  it  became  fashionable  to  show  great  zeal 
in  all  that  pertained  to  the  service  of  the  numerous 
deities. 

Of  course  this  zeal  was  shown  more  towards  foreign 
gods  than  for  those  of  Rome.  The  religious  syncre- 
tism, which  had  already  begun,  now  reached  its  climax, 
'^^  and  foreign  rites  almost  entirely  displaced  the  native 
cultus.  Now  the  festival  of  the  great  mother  was 
celebrated  with  the  greatest  splendor  in  Rome,  and  her 
priests  appeared  in  proud  state,  who  in  Juvenal's  time 
were  to  be  found  only  in  corner  taverns  among  sailors 
and  runaway  slaves.  The  lamentations  for  the  lost 
Attys  resounded  by  the  Tiber  as  loudly  as  ever  for- 
merly by  the  Orontes ;  and  the  day  of  the  Hilaria,  the 
re-discovery  of  Attys,  was  a  gala-day  for  the  whole  of 
Rome.  The  shrines  of  the  Egyptian  gods  had  formerly 
found  a  place  only  in  a  nook  outside  the  walls,  but 
before  this  time  Domitian  had  built  a  splendid  temple 

•  to  Isis  and  Serapis,  and  there  were  particular  stations 
(j>au8ce)  for  the  processions  of  these  gods  in  the  streets 

•  of  Rome.  The  Emperor  Commodus,  shorn  like  a  priest 
of  Isis,  himself  walked  in  the  procession,  and  canied 
th3  image  of  the  dog-headed  Anubis.  Even  the  Persian 
Mi'.hras,  the  last  in  the  series  of  the  gods  who  con- 
stantly migrated  to  Rome  from  farther  and  farther  east, 
uow  had  numerous  worshippers.    He  was  a  god  of  light, 


.  m.]  CONFUSION  OF  RELIGIONS.  81fi 

a  sun-god;  as  god  of  the  setting  sun,  he  was  also  god* 
of  the  nether  world;  also  as  the  invincible  god  (the 
"invincible  companion"  as  he  was  often  called)  he 
became  the  patron  of  warriors,  and  as  such  thoroughly 
fitted  for  those  times  in  which  the  whole  world  was 
filled  with  war.  His  worship  was  always  held  in  a 
cave.  In  Rome  the  cave  penetrated  deep  into  the 
Capitolhie  Hill.  Emperors  were  numbered  among  his 
adorers,  and  everywhere  where  Roman  armies  came 
(on  the  Rhine,  for  instance)  there  images  and  caves  • 
of  Mithras  have  been  found.  This  religious  syncre- 
tism reached  its  culmination  when  Elagabalus,  a  Syrian 
priest  of  the  sun,  becoming  Emperor,  had  the  sun-god 
after  whom  he  was  named  brought  from  Emesa  to  * 
Rome,  in  the  form  of  a  conical  black  stone.  In  Rome 
a  costly  temple  was  built,  and  great  sacrifices  were » 
offered  to  him.  Then  the  image  and  the  treasures  of 
the  celestial  goddess  were  brought  from  Carthage,  and 
she  was  solemnly  united  to  the  god  Elagabalus.  Roma 
and  Italy  celebrated  in  a  most  splendid  festival  the 
marriage  of  the  gods.  The  fire  of  Vesta  and  the 
Palladium,  those  holy  things  of  ancient  Rome,  were 
placed  in  the  temple  of  the  new  god. 

The  consequences  of  this  confusion  of  religions  in 
the  select  circle  of  the  learned  were  different  from 
its  effect  upon  the  common  people.  With  the  learned 
the  whole  ritual  was  only  a  veiled  pantheism.  Each 
god  was  to  them  a  symbol  of  the  universal  deity.  The 
same  is  indicated  by  many  inscriptions  from  this  period, 
such  as  "  To  all  the  Celestials,"  or  "  To  all  Gods  and  * 
Goddesses."  All  the  gods  were  even  compressed  into 
one ;  and  a  figure,  in  which  as  many  attributes  as  possi- 
ble of  the  several  gods  were  combined,  was  called  dem 


316  EE-ACTION  IN  HEATHENISM.  [book  il 

/pantheus,  god  of  the  universal  deity.    For  the  most 

*  part  they  believed  in  one  supreme  god,  who,  iiamutable 
*and  inaccessible  himself,  governed  the  world  through 

*  an  innumerable  multitude  of  subordinate  powers,  lessei 
•gods,  his  intermediaries,  his  messengers,  who  brought 

to  him  the  thanksgivings  and  votive   offerings  of  the 

*  faithful.  With  the  multitude,  on  the  other  hand,  this 
worshijjping  of  foreign  gods  was  only  a  veiled  fetichism. 
These  gods  had  no  connections  with  the  people  and  the 

•State;  their  worship  had  no  historical  roots,  and  was 
pure  fetichism.  Therefore  they  were  no  longer  joy- 
ously honored  as  the  beneficent  gods,  but  they  were 
regarded  as  demons,  which  men  feared,  and  strove  by 
every  kind  of   service   and    gift   to   render  friendly. 

"^Heathenism  became  demon-worship:  the  rites  acquired 
a  dark  and  dread  element  which  was  foreign  to  the 

Ancient  Heathenism.    The  gods  were  now  only  dreaded, 

I  no  longer  trusted. 

In  close  connection  with  this  change  was  the  great 

V  influence  attained  by  magic.  That  too  was  a  character- 
istic of  the  demon-worshipping,  corrupt  Heathenism, 
which  became  more  and  more  prominent.  Heathen- 
ism and  the  magic  art  are  inseparably  connected. 
Heathenism  as  a  whole  is  permeated  with  magic. 
Everywhere  we  find  a  belief  in  magicians  who  bring 
storms,  and  bewitch  fields,  a  belief  in  love-philtres,  in 
the  transformation  of  men  into  beasts,  in  the  conjura- 
tion of  the  dead,  and  the  like.     The  heathen  lived  in 

J  perpetual  dread.  They  feared  all  sorts  of  sounds,  omens, 
evil  eye,  charms,  and  the  specti'al  shapes  of  the  blood- 
sucking Lamice  and  Empusce,  But  against  these  there 
were  all  kinds  of  charms,  with  which  men  protected 
themselves,  a  regular  system   of   means   of   defence. 


BHAP  ra.]  MAGIC  AXD  AUGURY.  317 

Especially  were  amulets  valued,  and  the  heathen  cov- 
ered themselves  with  them  from  head  to  foot. 

All  this  had  long  existed.  The  Emperors  in  the  first 
century  had  often  consulted  seers,  astrologers,  and  Chal- 
deans. Was  not  the  noble  Germanicus  enciioled  and 
hunted  to  death  with  murderous  magic;  his  enemies 
sparing  no  crime  however  horrible,  which  had  to  be 
committed  in  order  to  furnish  the  charms,  pieces  of  hu-  ^ 
man  bodies  and  such  other  things  as  were  necessary! 
But  now  this  magic  art  increased  fearfully.  The  ora- 
cles, which  had  never  become  absolutely  silent,  were* 
now  more  consulted  than  ever.  The  augury  by  the  in- 
spection of  entrails,  for  a  time  neglected,  though  it  was 
the  old  Roman  way  to  inquire  into  the  future,  now  came 
into  frequent  use.  Alexander  Severus  paid  teachers  to 
give  lectures  on  the  subject.  Not  only  the  entrails  oi 
animals  but  also  of  men  were  examined,  in  order  te 
discover  what  the  future  would  bring.  The  general 
insecurity  of  the  time,  the  dread  of  what  might  b«* 
coming,  or  the  ambition  which  was  waiting  for  the 
death  of  the  Emperor,  with  the  hope  of  taking  his 
place  -  all  led  to  it.  The  last  heathen  Emperors  were 
particularly  and  passionately  addicted  to  this  magic 
art.  Women  and  children  were  cut  open  alive  in  the  '• 
palace  of  Diocletian's  co-regent,  in  order  to  inspect 
their  entrails.  Numerous  amulets  were  worn  to  protect  * 
from  magic.  Omens  and  signs  were  diligently  observed. 
Of  almost  every  Emperor  portents  which  predicted  hia 
reigning  are  narrated  by  his  contemporaries.  In  the 
life  of  Diocletian  one  of  the  most  important  events  was 
the  prophecy  of  a  Druidess,  who  foretold  that  he  would 
be  Emperor,  when  he  was  only  a  subaltern  in  the  army 
near  Lutetia  (Paris).    Maximinus  Daza  never  made  any 


318  RE-ACTION  IN  HEATHENISM.  [book  tt 

•  change  without  an  omen;  he  did  not  even  go  oat  with- 
out consulting  his  Chaldean  book  of  hours.  The  inter- 
pretation of  dreams  was  pursued  with  especial  zeal 
Artemidorus  of  Ephesus  spent  his  whole  life  in  inves- 
tigating all  that  had  been  written  on  dreams,  and 
even  took  long  journeys  to  collect  experiences  and 
materials.  The  result  was  his  book  Oneirocritica^  the 
interpretation  of  dreams.  In  it,  dreams  are  divided, 
with  a  semblance  of  science,  into  definite  classes,  and 
then  their  meaning  is  given.  If  one  has  a  dream  of 
a  great  head,  that  signifies  riches  and  honors  to  such  as 
have  them  not,  otherwise  it  portends  care.  Long  and 
smooth  hair  signifies  happiness,  short  hair  misfortune ; 
wool  instead  of  hair,  sickness;  a  shorn  head,  misery. 
If  a  man  dreams  that  ants  creep  into  his  ear,  that 
signifies  many  hearers  to  an  orator,  but  death  to  other 
men,  for  ants  come  out  of  the  earth. 

Wandering  magicians  made  a  paying  business   out 

of  this  nonsense.     They  wandered  about  in  fantastic 

I  costume,  and  offered  their  charms  for  sale.     They  sold 

•  oracles,  amulets,  talismans,  ointments,  chains  and  bands, 
!  which  were  said  to  keep  off  all  kinds  of  evU,  and  to 

•  heal  certain  diseases.  Magicians  and  charmers  enjoyed 
great  consideration.  People  crowded  into  the  chambers 
of  mystery  in  which  they  made  known  the  future  and 
conjured  the  shades  of  the  dead,  and  exhibited  table- 
moving  and  spirit-rapping;  and  though  perhaps  the 
great  satirist  Lucian,  in  order  to  scoff  at  his  contempo- 
raries, drew  a  caricature  in  his  Alexander  of  Abono 
teichos,  by  combining  too  many  swindles  in  that  one 
person,  yet  similar  characters  must  have  existed  at  that 
time.  In  partnership  with  a  comedy-writer  from  By 
lantium,  Alexander  bought  a  huge  serpent  in  Pel  la 


CHAP,  ra.]  ALEXANDER  OF  ABONOTEICHOS.  319 

Then  they  hid  in  the  temple  of  Apollo  at  Chalcedon 
two  brazen  tablets  on  which  was  written  that  -^scula- 
pius,  with  his  father  Apollo,  would  soon  come  to  Abono-  * 
teichos  in  Pontus.     The  discovery  of  the  tablets  made  ^ 
the  desired  excitement,  and  Alexander  went  to  Abono- 
teichos  to  build  the  god  a  temple  and  to  prepare  all 
things  for  his   reception.      Fantastically  dressed  in  a) 
purple  garment  with  white  stripes,  he  appeared  among/ 
the  people,  and  raised  their  expectations  to  the  highest 
pitch  by  various  artifices.      Meanwhile  he  had  hidden 
in.   the  foundation  of  the  temple  an  egg  with  a  little 
serpent  in  it,  and  now  he  appeared  in  the  market-place 
to   announce   to   the   people  the  advent  of  their  god. 
By  occasional  phrases  of  Hebrew  and  Chaldee  he  gave 
to  his  speech  the  proper  magical  stamp,  and  when  the 
excitement  had  reached  its  climax  he  ran  to  the  temple, 
brought  the   egg,  and  showed  the  infant  god  to  the 
astonished  multitude.     After  a  few  days  Alexander  « 
solemnly  presented  their  god  to  the  people.     Clad  in 
rich  garments  the  prophet  reclined  upon  costly  cushions 
in  a  dimly-lighted  chamber,  and  about  him  coiled  the 
serpent  which   he   had   bought   and   trained    for  the 
purpose;   this  was  the  god  already  grown  up.     From 
all  quarters  the  people  flocked  thither;   the  new  god* 
dispensed  oracles,  and  became  a  fountain  of  riches  and 
honor  to  his  prophet.    Alexander  received  gifts  in  abun- 
dance, and  even  coins  were  struck  in  his  honor,  repre- , 
renting  himself  with  his  god  Glykon.     Nor  was  this  all 
romance.     In  truth  Alexander  had  worshippers  enough 
even    among    the    higher  classes.      In   Rome   Publius* 
Rutilianus,  a  man  of  consular  rank,  was  his  zealous 
disciple.     Marcus  Aurelius  asked   counsel  from   him* 
when  afEairs  went  badly  on  the  Danube,  and  by  his 


320  RI&-ACTION  IN  HEATHENISM.  [book  n 

advice    instituted  a  great  expiatory  sacrifice.      Neai 
Carlsburg  an  inscription  has  recently  been  discovered, 
•  which  mentions  Alexander  and  his  serpent-god  side  by 
side  with  Jupiter  and  Juno.     Even  as  late  as  the  time 
when  Athenagoras  wrote   his  Apology,  the  statues  of 
Alexander  were  still  publicly  worshipped.^    There  were 
also  other  cases  in  which  men  were  worshipped  as  gods 
by  the  people.     There  was  a  half-wild  man  who  wan- 
dered  about  in  the  plain  of  Marathon,  and  who  was 
,  venerated  by  the  inhabitants  as  a  demi-god  under  the 
.name   of  Agathion.*    In  Troas  a  certain  Neryllis  was 
regarded  as  a  prophet  and  a  worker  of  miracles.     His 
statue  stood  in  Troas,  and  was  frequently  crowned  with 
flowers ;  sacrifices  were  offered,  and  cures  attributed  to 
it.^     All  these  things  show  the  hopeless   confusion  in 
which  the  religious  consciousness  of  the  time  was  in- 
volved. 
A      Anothsr  characteristic  of  this  time  was  its  love  for 
X  all  kinds  of  stories  about  ghosts  and  apparitions.     Phle- 
gon  wrote  whole  books  teeming  with  ghosts  and  mon- 
sters.     And    the    Golden  Asb^   the    popular  romance 
written  by  Apuleius  of  Madaura,  is  really  nothing  but 
a  series  of  tales  of  ghosts  and  magic,  the  product  of 
.an  unrestrained  and  impure  imagination.     Such  books 
were  enjoyed  with  secret  terror  by  his  contemporaries. 
« There  was  a  general  belief  that  the   dead  might  be 
^summoned  and  would  appear,  and  such  as  understood 
,  the  art  were  much  sought  after.     When  Caracalla  had 
murdered  his  brother  Geta,  and  in  his  remorse  believed 
that  he  was  perpetually  pursued  by  his  dead  brotLer, 
armed  with  a  sword,  he  was  driven  by  terror  to  con- 
jurations.    Commodus  and  Severus  appeared  to   him, 
but  with  Severus  came   Geta  uncalled,  and   uttered 


CHAP,  m.]    THE  FUTURE  LIFE.    THE  MYSTERIES.  321 

terrible  threats,  Apuleius  in  the  Golden  Ass  describea 
a  conjuration  of  this  kind.  He  narrates  the  manner  in 
which  an  Egyptian  conjured  a  corpse  in  the  market- 
place of  Larissa.  He  stood  before  it  clothed  in  a  linen 
robe,  laid  herbs  three  times  on  its  mouth  and  breast, 
and  murmured  prayers,  turning  towards  the  rising  sun. 
Such  arts  were  now  cultivated  with  a  fanatical  zeal 
entirely  foreign  to  earlier  times.  Heathenism  became  i 
fanatical  in  its  demon-worship  (we  must  bear  this  in  • 
mind,  as  it  will  supply  the  key  to  many  events  to  which 
we  shall  come),  and  by  this  fanatical  Heathenism  the 
conflict  with  Christianity  was  conducted  in  a  far  more 
cruel  and  bloodthirsty  manner  than  it  had  been  carried 
on  by  the  earlier,  more  natural  phase  of  Heathenism. 

The   attraction  of  the   hereafter,  which  we   noticed 
under    the     early    Empire,    had    now    become    much 
stronger.      If  we   look  at  the   epitaphs   of  the   third 
century,  we  find  indications  of  a  heathen  heaven.     We 
read:  "  Ye  hapless  survivors,  lament  this  death;  ye  gods 
and  goddesses,  rejoice  over  your  new  fellow-citizen;" 
or;  "Now  art  thou  happy  for  the  first  time,  far  from 
every  earthly  event ;  high  in  heaven  thou  delightest  in 
ambrosia  and  nectar  with  the  blessed  gods ; "  or  again : 
"  Gods   of  the   nether  world,  open  to  my  father  the  ' 
groves  where  shines  the  rosy  light  of  an  eternal  day."  ^  / 
Consecration   is  needed  for  entrance   to   this  heaven,  r 
Redemption  is  necessary,  the  heathen  too  now  realize  i 
that;  but  each  must  be  his  own  redeemer,  and  must) 
accomplish  his  redemption  by  all  kinds   of  trials  andf 
sufferingB. 

Here  was  the  root  of  the  strong  tendency  to  asceti- 
cism which  dominated  this  period.  The  orgy  of  pleas- 
ure was  past,  the  treasures  of  the  conquered  world  had 


322  BS-AGTION  IN  HEATHENISM.  [book  a 

•  been  squandered;  with  returning  soberness  the  world 
J  felt  its  misery,  and  sought  to  gain  peace  and  salvation 
.  by  every  kind  of  penance,  self-chastisement,  and  self- 
.  torture.      This  was  also  the   cause  of  the  widespread 
popularity  of  the  various  Mysteries.     The  earlier  Mys- 
teries had  a  local  stamp.      He  who  came  to  Eleusis 
would  doubtless,  from  traditional  reverence,  seek  initia- 
tion  into  the  Eleusinian  Mysteries,  but  they  were  not 
widely  known.     At  this  time  however  an  entirely  new 
order  of  Mysteries  appeared,  which  spread  through  the 
whole  Empire,  and  all  of  which  made  the  attainment  of 
purification,  regeneration,  immortality,  and  blessedness 
their  object.     Of  many  of  these  we  know  but  little,  be- 
cause they  were  secret  rites ;  of  others  we  possess  more 
•  particular  information.      There  were  the  Mysteries  of 
[  Sabazius,  of  which  we  know  only  a  few  formulas.    There 
•were  also  the  dread  Taurobolium  and  Kriobolium.    The 
'novice  was  dressed  in  symbolic  garments,  and  placed  at 
midnight  in  a  vault  covered  with  boards.     Above  him 
a  bullock  or  a  ram  was  then  sacrificed,  and  he  was  to 
receive  on  his  face  and  hands  as  much  as  possible  of 
the  blood,  that  dripped  through  the  holes  and  cracks 
of  the  boards,  for  this  was  the  vires  cetemce,  the  blood 
of  eternal  consecration.    Then  he  had  to  go  about  in 
the  bloody  garments  for  a  certain  period,  and  considered 
himself,  as  the  votive  inscriptions  testify,  in  cetemum 
renatus,  regenerated  forever.^    Besides  these  there  were 
'^  the   highly  venerated  Mysteries   of    Isis  which  were 
mjch  more   complex.      A  long  preparation  preceded 
them,  including  abstinence  from  meat,  bat'as,  and  sprin- 
kling with  water  of  consecration.    The  initiated  and 
their  friends  brought  votive  offerings.     On  the  conse- 
cration-night indicated  by  a  dream,  the  novioo  watched 


CHAP   m.]  SECRETS  OF  THE  MYSIERIES.  32S 

in  the  temple,  first  in  a  harsh  linen  robe,  then  changing 
twelve  times  his  robes,  all  of  which  had  symbolic  mean- 
ings, he  went  through  a  number  of  scenes  and  visions 
which  signified  death  and  resurrection  through  the 
favor  of  Isis. 

A  certain  Lucius  tells  us  concerning  these  rites :  "  I 
tiuversed  the  portals  of  death,  I  crossed  the  threshold  i 
of  Proserpine,  and  after  passing   through  all  the  ele-. 
ments  I  returned.     In  the  middle  of  the  night  I  saw 
the  sun  in  its  brightness,  I  approached  the  presence  of 
the  gods,  and  drawing  near   unto   them  I  offered  my 
petitions."    At  dawn  Lucius  found  himself  clad  in  a 
figured  robe,  with  a  crown  of  palm-leaves  on  his  head 
and  a  torch  in  his  hand,  standing  on  a  raised  platform 
in  front  of  the  image  of  Isis.     Suddenly  a  curtain  was  . 
drawn  away,  and  the  multitude  assembled  in  the  body 
of  the  temple  saw  in  him  a  living  image  of  the  sun.  • 
All  kinds  of  apparatus  for  producing  these  appearances  \ 
belonged  to  the  necessary  furnishings  of  the  temple,  , 
and  mirrors  were   principally  used  for  this  purpose. 
In  the  doorway  which  leads  to  the  inner  temple   of 
Demeter  at  Eleusis,  there  are  still  visible  grooves  in 
the   stones  which  make  it  probable  that  by  means   of 
ingenious  machinery  the  initiated  were  conveyed  into 
the  inner  court  of  the  temple,  so  that  they  seemed  to 
descend  into  the  realm  of  shades.     Hippolytus  gives  ^  a 
long  list  of  these  artifices,  of  the  way  the  priests  so  con- 
trived, that  the  doors  of  the  temple  opened  of  them- 
selvea,   that   at  the  moment  when   the   flame   of  the 
sacrifice  blazed  up  on  the  altar  a  mysterious  music  waa 
heard,  that  majestic  forms  appeared  in  the  altar-flames,  } 
and  the  like.     Thus  the  novices  really  believed  them-  ! 
selves  perpetuallj'  surrounded  with  miracles. 


324  RE-ACTION  IN  HEATHENISM.  [book  n 

f  The  mysteries  of  Mithras  were  more  awe  -inspiring, 
and  they  best  show  how  much  the  heathen  were  will- 
ing to  undergo  in  order  to  attab*  the  expiation  of  theii 
sins.  There  were  different  degrees  of  consecration, 
the  rave7i,  the  warrior,  the  lion,  and  so  on.  Novices 
had  to  undergo  many  tests,  called  disciplines.     There 

'were   eighty   such  disciplines:    fasting,   standing  and 

*  lying  in  ice  and  snow,  even  for  twenty  days  at  a  time, 
t  the   rack,   horrors,   flagellations,   &c.      They  were    so 

severe,  that  many  lost  their  lives  in  them.  Yet  great 
numbers  including  nobles,  and  even  Emperors,  pressed 
forward  for  the  privilege  of  becoming  warriors  of 
Mithras. 

This  period  presents  a  strange  picture.  One  might 
feel  inclined  at  the  first  glance  to  make  it  a  subject  of 
laughter  and  mockery,  and  yet  it  cannot  be  contemplated  , 
without  sadness.  Must  the  splendor  of  the  ancient  j 
world  end  in  such  a  Witches'-Sabbath !  The  world 
which  has  listened  to  a  Socrates  and  a  Plato,  produced 
a  Sophocles,  and  seen  so  much  beauty,  which  once  shone 
with  the  glory  of  those  works  of  art  whose  heroic  pro- 
portions still  inspire  our  youth,  —  this  world  as  it  comes 
to  an  end  prays  to  a  thousand  wondrous  gods,  dog- 
headed  idols,  and  cone-shaped  stones,  creeps  into  the 

•  caves  of  Mithras,  and  seeks  regeneration  in  the  expi- 
'.atory  blood  of  the  Taurobolia,  trembles  before  ghosts 
'  and  magic  charms,  and  becomes  the  prey  of  every  char- 
;  latan  who  plays  off  miracles  upon  it ! 

It  is  not  difficult  to  understand  why  the  greatest 
scoffer  that  ever  lived  should  be  born  at  this  time.  All 
this  superstition  was  to  Lucian  of  Samosata,  only  a 
merry  comedy  which  supplied  him  with  inexhaustible 
subjects  for  laughtei .     "  Be   sober  and  incredulous ! ' 


rHAP.  ra.]  LUCIAN  THE  SCOFFER.  326 

With  this  motto  he  confronts  the  men  of  his  age  like  a 
solitary  clear-headed  man  before  a  company  of  drunken 
revellers.  He  mocks  at  all  things,  gods  and  men.  In 
his  dialogues  of  the  gods,  we  witness  a  domestic  squab- 
ble between  Jupiter  and  Juno ;  then  we  find  all  Olym- 
pus in  despair  when  the  cause  of  the  gods  is  ill  sus- 
tained in  a  disputation  between  Stoic  and  Epicurean 
philosophers ;  and  again  we  learn  what  kind  of  a  recep- 
tion is  given  to  all  the  queer  new  gods  who  crowd  into 
Olympus.  With  the  most  biting  satire  he  attacks  su- 
perstition, magic,  and  the  wandering  jugglers ;  but  then 
Plato  and  Socrates  also  are  objects  of  his  mockery,  and 
in  Christianity  he  sees  only  one  of  the  many  follies  of 
the  time.  The  worshippers  of  "  the  crucified  sophist " 
are  to  him  just  such  superstitious  fools  as  the  devotees 
of  Alexander's  serpent-god.  He  recognizes  the  benevo- 
lence of  the  Christians.  They  show,  he  concedes,  an 
unsurpassed  activity  in  helping,  defending,  or  consol- 
ing one  of  their  number,  and  they  are  utterly  regardless 
of  expense  in  matters  affecting  their  common  good. 
But  he  only  laughs  at  the  fiction  which  their  first  law- 
giver inculcated,  that  they  are  all  brethren.  He  sees 
how  they  despise  death,  but  this  too  is  ridiculous  to 
him ;  for  the  hapless  beings  (according  to  him),  have 
persuaded  themselves  that  they  are  entirely  immortal 
and  will  live  for  all  time.  There  is  indeed  no  more  ter- 
riblo  spectacle  than  such  a  man,  to  whom  every  thing  is 
ridiculous;  for  this  proves  that  there  is  for  him  no 
longer  any  thing  holy.  Accurately  as  Lucian  pictured 
his  age,  he  yet  did  not  understand  it.  He  saw  only  the 
peculiarities  and  monstrosities,  but  the  earnest  striving 
which  pervaded  it,  the  yearning  which  produced  snoh 
strange  developments,  he  never  suspected.     Tc  a  thor* 


826  EE-ACTION  IN  HBATHENIflM.  [book  n 

oagli-going  aaterialist  such  as  Lucian,  no  age  is  so 
incomprelieLsible  as  one  like  his. 

After  the  orgies  of  the  earlier  Empire,  a  fast-day  pen- 
itential feeling  had  taken  possession  of  the  world,  and 
far  and  wide  the  question  moved  all  hearts:  "What 
must  I  do  to  be  saved?"  Such  times  are  always  of 
great  importance  for  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  anxiety 
about  their  souls'  salvation,  which  impelled  men  to  re- 
sort to  the  Mysteries,  might  show  them  the  way  to  the 
true  and  unique  mystery  of  redemption.  The  longing 
for  forgiveness,  which  did  not  shrink  from  severe  dis- 
cipline and  penance,  was  fitted  to  open  their  hearts  to 
the  preaching  of  that  forgiveness  which  is  freely  offered 
to  all  through  grace. 

At  first,  of  course.  Heathenism  attempted  to  deliver 
itself,  to  satisfy  from  its  own  resources  the  deficiencies 
which  could  no  longer  be  ignored.  Once  more  the 
Greek  spirit  bestirred  itself,  and  framed  a  new  and  final 
system  of  philosophy,  —  Neoplatonism. 

Ammonius  the  porter,  of  Alexandria,  is  said  to  have 
been  the  father  of  Neoplatonism,  but  his  pupil  Plotinus 
first  developed  it  into  a  regular  system.  It  was  in  all 
respects  a  medley  such  as  times  of  ferment  are  wont  to 
produce.  It  was  a  philosophy,  a  revival  of  Platonism, 
but  in  such  fashion  as  to  incorporate  with  Platonism 
many  other  elements.  Plotinus  actually  endeavored  to 
show  that  all  philosophic  systems  had  but  one  aim,  and 
attempted  to  unite  Aristotle  and  the  Stoics  with  Plato. 
But  Neoplatonism  was  at  the  same  time  a  theology,  or 
more  correctly  a  theosophy.  The  whole  system  was 
pervaded  by  a  moral  and  religious  way  of  looking  at 
things,  corresponding  to  the  strong  religious  tendency 
ftf  the  age.     Thus  the  knowledge  of  the  Supreme  Being 


m.]  NBOPLATONISM.  827 

was  to  be  gained  not  by  pbilosophic  speculation,  but  hj 

contemplation,  by  immediate   intuition.     Indeed,  Neo- 

platonism  appeared  in  the  character  of  a  new  revelation. 

Ammonius  was   called   "the   inspired   of  God,"^  and 

Plotinus  believed  himself  accompanied  by  not  merely  # 

a  demon,  but  a  god  of  superior  rank.     When  he  was 

invited  to  a  sacrifice  he  answered :  "  It  is  the  part  of 

the  gods  to  come  to  me,  not  mine  to  go  in  search  of 
them."  10 

Plotinus  designates  as  the  object  of  his  teachings  "  to 
lead  the  soul  from  the  state  of  dishonor,  in  which  it  is 
estranged  from  its  father  and  its  source,  in  which  it 
ignores  its  true  being  and  grovels  among  transitory 
things,  to  a  condition  the  reverse  of  the  former,  up  to  the 
supreme  good." "  The  original  and  supreme  being, 
the  first  cause  of  all  things,  was,  according  to  Plotinus, 
the  One,  the  Good,  who  is  exalted  so  high  above  all, 
that  definition  and  distinction  and  relation  to  any  thing 
else  are  excluded  from  his  being.  Yet  although  the 
One  dwells  in  an  absolute  isolation,  from  him  proceeds  a 
communication  of  force,  descending  step  by  step.  The 
gradations  are  the  thinking  mind,  the  creative  soul,  and 
matter.  Matter  is  the  last  product  of  the  descending  • 
series  of  emanations  from  the  First.  It  is  the  negation 
of  being,  and  while  the  One,  the  First,  is  the  Good  and 
the  source  of  good,  matter  is  the  last,  in  which  no  ele- 
ment of  good  remains,  the  source  of  evil.  It  is  the  dark- 
ness over  against  the  light.  Now  it  is  the  office  of  th« 
Boul  to  enlighten  matter,  since  its  sphere  borders  on 
matter.  But  matter  re-acts  on  the  soul.  By  mixing 
with  darkness  the  soul's  light  becomes  dimmer.  This 
is  the  fall  of  the  soul.  It  is  true  the  soul  itself  still  re* 
mains  pure,  good,  and  rational,  but  its  being  is  obscured 


328  B»-ACTION  m  HEATHBKISM.  [book  i* 

with  matter,  like  one  plunged  in  the  mire.  Man's 
duty  then  is  to  purify  himself  from  matter,  to  win  his 
way  back  from  the  material  world  to  the  higher  sphere. 
This  duty  may  be  accomplished  through  virtue ;  that  is, 

•  the  soul  liberates  itself  from  material  elements  by  asceti- 
cism, and  concentrates  itself  upon  the  One.     Thus  the 
soul  comes  to  the  contemplation  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
and  though  these   moments  of  mystic  union  are  only    . 
rare  glimpses  of  light  during  this  earthly  life   (Ploti-    \ 
nus  himself  attained  to  this  contemplation  only  a  few 
times),  yet,  when  the  soul  is  freed  from  the  fetters  of    j 
the  body,  it  will   enjoy  the  uninterrupted  contempla-    ! 
tion  of  the  Supreme  Being. 

The  similarity  of  this  system  to  Christianity  is  as 
easy  to  discern,  as  their  radical  difference.  In  both, 
redemption  is  the  object,  but  Plotinus  recognized 
neither  the  depth  of  sin  nor  the  height  of  grace.  His 
Supreme  Being  is  not  the  living  God,  who  is  love,  the 

%  Creator  and  Father  of  all,  but  an  abstract  unity.  It  was 
only  the  "  unknown  God "  whom  rlotinus  recognized. 
And  therefore  matter  was  regarded  as  evil  in  itself, 
and  redemption  as  consisting  in  the  withdrawal  of  the 
soul  from  the  material  world.  And  this  redemption 
man  could  accomplish  for  himself  by  asceticism,  and 
the  practice  of  virtue.  As  Plotinus  was  entirely  shut 
in  by  the  heathen  horizon  of  thought,  he  naturally 
brought  the  hr/athen  mythology  into  his  system.  The 
myths  were,  in  his  view,  nothing  but  the  drapery  cloth- 
ing speculative  ideas.  His  whole  system  had  conven- 
ient points  of  connection  with  the  popular  faJth  of  the 
heathen,  and  his  pupils  followed  out  the  hints  he  gave. 
The  idea  that  God  works  and  reveals  himself  in  vari- 
ous emanations  was  expanded  into  a  regular  hierarchy 


OHAF.  m.]  NEOPLATONISM  AND  MAGIC.  329 

of  superior  and  inferio]  gods.  Next  to  the  supernal  U- 
gods  came  those  inhabiiing  the  earth,  and  below  these 
the  demons  good  and  bad.  In  this  way  the  en  tiro 
popular  creed  could  be  philosophically  justified.  The 
people  addressed  as  their  gods  those  who  inhabited  • 
the  earth,  while  the  sage  elevated  his  thoughts  to  the 
Supreme  One. 

The  idea  that  soul  permeates  the  entire  world,  and 
that  therefore  every  thing  therein  was  instinct  with  life 
and  soul,  even  things  apparently  destitute  of  them,  that 
one  life  animates  the  whole,  and  that  therefore  there 
exists  a  secret  sympathy  in  all  things  —  this  idea  gave 
a  philosophic  basis  for  magic  and  soothsaying,  so  that 
the  whole  business  of  sorcery  could  now  be  retained 
and  even  zealously  cultivated.  Thus  Neoplatonism  de-  j 
veloped  into  the  theology  of  restored  Heathenism,  which  \ 
was  in  this  way  made  to  rest  on  a  scientific  foundation 
for  the  educated.  The  Neoplatonists,  however,  purposed 
not  only  restoration,  but  reform.  In  giving  a  new  foun- 
dation for  the  heathen  religion,  they  purposed  also  to 
purify  it  from  the  grossest  objections,  and  to  communi- 
cate to  it  some  elements  which  Christianity  already  pos- 
sessed. For  instance,  bloody  sacrifices  were  to  be  abol- 
ished, and  bloodless  offerings  and  prayers  were  to  take 
their  place.  Worship  also  was  no  longer  to  consist 
only  of  dead  ceremonies,  but  teaching  and  preaching 
were  to  be  included  in  it,  according  "^  o  the  example  of 
the  Christian  Church. 

This  fact  clearly  shows  that  Christianity,  although 
still  decidedly  in  the  minority,  had  already  become  the 
dominant  power  in  the  world.  Strange  indeed  had 
seemed  to  the  heathen  the  spiritual  worship  of  the 
Christiajis,   and  much  scoffing  was    directed    against 


830  RE- ACTION  IN  HEATHENISM.  [book  n 

*  their  practice  of  instructing  artisans  and  old  women 
in  religious  matters.'  But  now,  that  which  had  been 
derided  was  recognized  as  a  want  which  the  heathen 
strove  to  satisfy  on  the  basis  of  Heathenism.  Their 
worship,  too,  was  to  be  spiritualized,  the  gross  material- 
ism of  animal  sacrifices  removed,  and  provision  made 
for  the  instruction  of  the  people.  Consciously,  or  un- 
consciously, the  reformation  of  Heathenism  was  evi- 
dently guided  by  the  influence  of  Christianity,  and  the 
latter  became  to  such  a  degree  the  mainspring  of  the 
movement,  that  reformed  Heathenism  adopted  features 
borrowed  from  Christianity  and  even  grew  to  be  an 
imitation  of  it. 

"We  used  a  borrowed  expression  in  speaking  of  "a 
heathen  heaven,"  to  indicate  the  similarity  to  the  Chri&- 
tian  heaven  which  the  heathen  idea  of  the  next  world 
assumed.  In  like  manner  a  heathen  Bible  might  be 
spoken  of.  Porphyry,  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  Neo- 
platonist  school,  made  a  collection  of  heathen  oracles 
and  divine  utterances,  in  the  preface  to  which  he  says : 
"  Those  will  best  recognize  the  usefulness  of  this  collec- 
tion, who  in  their  longing  for  truth  have  prayed  that 
they  might  enjoy  a  vision  of  the  Gods,  in  order  that 
they  might  find  rest  from  their  doubts  in  teachings 
which  emanated  from  trustworthy  authority."  ^  What 
is  this  but  a  heathen  B^ble !  All  the  Christian  concep- 
tions—  expiation,  purification  from  sin,  regeneration 
—  were  now  to  be  met  with  among  the  heathen,  and 
the  goal  of  their  Mysteries  was  redemption,  that  is,  a 
heathen  redemption.  The  heathen  colleges  of  priests, 
als^^  had  entirely  changed  their  organization ;  indeed, 
in  Diocletian's  time,  they  had  become  a  sort  of  hier- 
a^  iiy,  a  kind  of  teaching  order.    In  this,  also,  the 


ciiA*.  in.l  APOLLONIUS  OP  TYANA.  88l 

appiDximation  to  the  Christian  Church  is  suflicieutly 
perceptible.  A  heathen  Church  organized  itself  in 
opposition  to  the  Christian  Church,  and,  to  push  the 
parallel  to  the  utmost,  there  was  put  forward  a  heathen 
Christ  J  or,  rather,  several. 

Long  before,  Seneca  had  said  that  man  must  have 
a  guide  in  order  to  attain  peace,  and  this  desire  for  a 
guide  to  the  soul  had  grown  ever  stronger.  Some 
sought  this  guide  among  the  gods,  and  Mithras,  "  the  in-  ^^ 
vincible  companion,"  was  among  those  selected.  Others 
took  for  a  guide  one  among  the  sages  of  the  past,  yet 
then  it  was  not  a  historic,  but  an  idealized  image  of 
the  sage  which  was  set  forth.  Thus  were  Plato  and 
Pythagoras  treated.  The  greatest  celebrity  of  this  kind, 
however,  was  accorded  to  ApoUonius  of  Tyana,  for  we 
find  him  exhibited  as  a  veritable  heathen  Christ.  The 
historical  Apollonius  was  a  magician  and  necromancer, 
who  spent  his  life  in  journeying  about  and  plying  his 
magic  arts,  and  who  also  asserted  that  visions  were 
vouchsafed  to  him.  In  the  reign  of  Septimius  Severus, 
Flavins  Philostratus  wrote  a  biography  of  this  Apol- 
lonius, in  which,  by  the  most  fanciful  idealization,  he 
is  set  forth  as  a  counterpart  and  rival  of  Christ.  His 
mother  bore  him  to  the  god  Proteus ;  swans  sang  sweet 
lullabies  over  the  cradle  of  the  new-born  child.  Even 
in  childhpod  he  gave  indications  of  marvellous  powers, 
and  in  early  life  he  withdrew  into  solitude,  and  took 
long  journeys.  He  acquired  the  wisdom  of  India  in 
that  land,  and  then  began  his  progress  through  the 
world  in  order  to  reform  Heathenism.  He  drew  dis- 
ciples round  him,  preached  in  the  principal  cities  of  the 
Roman  Empire,  and  performed  numerous  miracles. 
**  His  mouth  was  a  brimming  cup,  and  every  one  waa   [^ 


832  •    RE-ACTION  IN  HEATHENISM.  [boor  n 

free  to  come  and  slake  his  thirst.""  The  miracles 
which  Philostratus  relates  are  often  very  similar  to 
Christ's  miracles.  In  Rome,  for  instance,  ApoUoniua 
met  a  funeral  procession;  a  young  girl  lay  upon  the 
bier;  her  bridegroom  followed  weeping,  accompanied 
by  many  friends.  Apollonius  stopped  the  procession, 
asked  the  name  of  the  dead,  then  touched  the  corpse, 
and  spoke  a  few  words.  Immediately  the  young  girl 
arose,  as  if  she  had  awaked  from  sleep."  His  preach- 
ing inculcated  the  reform  of  Heathenism.  He  rejected 
bloody  sacrifices,  and  offered  only  incense.  He  ap- 
proved the  erection  of  temples  and  altars  to  the  gods, 
but  not  statues  ;  it  ought  to  be  left  open  to  every  one 
to  form  his  own  inward  imagination  of  the  deity.^'  It 
is  peculiarly  significant  that  Apollonius  urged  men  to 
love  their  neighbors  and  to  do  good.  Standing^  on  the 
steps  of  the  temple  at  Ephesus  —  so  Philostratus  nar- 
rates ^^  —  he  was  preaching,  and  with  vivid  illustrations 
was  exhorting  men  to  be  helpful  one  to  another.  Near 
him  were  some  sparrows  quietly  perched  on  a  tree. 
There  came  another  sparrow,  and  uttered  a  cry,  as  if  to 
communicate  some  tidings.  Then  they  all  flew  away, 
and  followed  the  messenger.  Apollonius,  seeing  it,  in- 
terrupted his  preaching,  and  said :  "  A  child  was  carry- 
ing some  corn  in  a  basket.  The  child  fell  down,  and 
then  went  on,  after  partially  collecting  the  corn,  but  left 
some  of  it  scattered  in  the  street.  The  sparrow  saw  it, 
and  sought  his  fellows,  in  order  that  all  might  have  a 
share  in  what  he  had  found."  Some  of  those  present 
immediately  went,  and  found  that  it  was  indeed  just 
as  he  had  said.  Then  said  Apollonius  to  the  people : 
"  You  see  how  much  interest  the  sparrows  manifest  in 
each  other's  welfare,  and  how  willing  they  are  to  divide 


CHAP,  in.]       APOLLONIUS  A  HEATHEN  CHRIST.  383 


I 

^H their  possessions  one  with  another;  but  you,  on  the 
^Bother  hand,  when  you  see  that  a  man  is  sharing  his  prop- 
^■erty  with  others,  call  him  a  spendthrift."  ApoUonius 
^Balso  suffered  persecution  on  account  of  his  reformatory 
^Pwork.  In  vain  did  his  friends  endeavor  to  hold  hun 
back  from  going  to  Rome,  where  Domitian  was  gratify- 
ing his  savage  passions.  "I  dare  not  flee  from  my 
enemies,"  answered  ApoUonius,  "  I  must  fight  for  my 
friends."  Domitian  threw  him  into  prison,  but  Apol- 
lonius  suddenly  disappeared  from  the  sight  of  his 
judges,  and  in  the  evening  re-appeared  to  his  friends  at 
Pozzuoli."  These  refused  to  believe  that  it  was  indeed 
himself,  but  he  permitted  them  to  touch  him  to  con- 
vince them  that  it  was  no  phantom  which  they  beheld. 
Later  in  the  island  of  Crete  he  disappeared,  when  a  voice 
was  heard,  "  Leave  the  earth,  and  ascend  to  heaven  I  "  ^* 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  we  have  here  a  repre- 
sentation drawn  with  the  fall  intention  of  constructing 
a  heathen  counterpart  of  Christ.  Philostratus  was  not, 
like  Lucian,  merely  writing  a  satire,  but  he  was  seri- 
ously making  the  attempt  to  set  up  a  heathen  Christ  in 
opposition  to  the  Christian  Christ.  And  this  is  the 
more  significant  since  we  have  here  not  simply  the 
personal  views  and  intentions  of  Philostratus.  He  was 
an  honored  member  of  the  coterie  of  learned  men 
which  gathered  around  the  intellectual  women  at  the 
court  of  the  Emperor  Septimius  Severus,  Julia  Domna 
his  wife,  her  sister  Julia  Msesa,  and  their  niece  Julia 
Mammaea.  In  this  circle  religious  questions  were  much 
discussed,  and  without  any  prepossession  in  favor  of 
the  religion  of  the  Roman  state.  Julia  Domna  indeed 
was  the  daughter  of  a  priest  of  the  sun  in  Emesa, 
The  predominant  tendency  in  this  circle  was  thor 


^ 


334  RE-ACTION  IN  HEATHENISM.  [book  n 

oughly  syncretic,  and  this  syncretism  was  not  averse 
to  Christianity.  The  Christian  religion,  too,  was  not 
without  adherents  at  the  court ;  a  chamberlain  of  Com- 
modus  was  a  Christian, ^^  and  another  Christian  called 
Proculus  belonged  (according  to  Tertullian^)  to  the 
household  of  Severus.  It  was  recognized  that  there 
was  something  in  the  new  religion.  The  spotless  mor^ 
ality  of  the  Christians  and  the  steadfastness  of  the 
martjrrs  made  a  profound  impression.  The  idea  was 
no  longer  repudiated  that  the  Christians  possessed 
something  which  the  heathen  lacked.  Was  it  not  pos- 
sible, then,  for  Heathenism  to  appropriate  thi«3?  Could 
there  not  as  a  rival  to  the  Christ  of  the  Christians  be 
set  up  a  heathen  Christ,  in  whose  portrait  the  excellence 
which  belonged  to  Christianity  might  be  combined  with 
Heathenism?  Such  was  the  school  of  thought  from 
which  sprang  the  book  of  Philostratus. 

Indeed  there  was  at  this  time  a  general  and  percepti- 
(T  ble  desire  for  a  harmonious  agreement  with  Christianity. 
Even  Celsus  had  proposed  a  kind  of  treaty  with  the 
Christians.  But  now  the  thought  of  the  age  was  still 
more  definitely  directed  towards  it.  Elagabalus  made 
room  for  a  chapel  for  Christianity  in  his  universal  tem- 
ple;- Alexander  Severus  openly  showed  his  sympathy 
with  the  new  faith.  Christianity  was  to  be  received 
among  the  religions  of  the  Koman  Empire,  but  of  course 
only,  on  condition  that  it  would  seek  for  nothing  more 
than  to  be  a  religion  amongst  many  others,  and  that  it 
would  itself  recognize  the  heathen  religions.  But  this 
was  impossible,  and  therefore  there  was  no  alternative 
but  to  renew  the  conflict.  Indeed  even  this  idea  of  an 
agreement  which  would  concede  to  Christ  a  place  in 
the  Roman  Pantheon,  by  the  side  of  Jupiter,  Isis,  and 


OHAF.  in.]  FAl^ATICAL  HEATHENISM.  886 

Mithras,  would  contribute,  since  the  plan  proved  im- 
practicable, to  has»*^^en  the  real  decisive  struggle. 

It  would  show  but  little  knowledge  of  human  na- 
ture, to  found  on  the  fact  that  Heathenism  had  come 
considerably  nearer  to  Christianity  the  hope  that  it 
would  henceforth  occupy  a  more  friendly  attitude  to- 
wards the  Christian  faith.  These  advances  on  the  part 
of  Heathenism  may  perhaps  have  made  a  bridge  on 
which  an  individual  here  and  there  passed  over  into  the 
Church ;  but,  on  the  whole,  they  would  only  intensify 
the  antagonism,  when  it  was  recognized  that  Christi- 
anity would  enter  into  no  compromise.  For  the  hea- 
then now  believed  that  they  possessed,  and  that  in  a 
much  purer  form,  the  excellences  which  Christianity 
was  conceded  to  contain.  Hence  this  Christianity 
which  utterly  repudiated  union  had  now  the  less  right 
to  exist.  The  earlier  form  of  Heathenism  would  not 
have  had  the  strength  to  fight  a  decisive  battle  with 
Christianity.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  this  restoration 
put  new  strength  into  Heathenism,  though  the  strength 
was  not  of  the  right  kind.  And  further,  the  purpose 
could  now  be  formed  of  making  restored  Heathenism 
serve  as  a  religious  foundation  for  the  restoration  of 
political  and  national  life,  and  thus  of  accomplishing 
the  restoration  of  the  ancient  world  as  a  whole.  But 
the  first  step  towards  this  consummation  must  be  the 
annihilation  of  Christianity.  The  unnaturalness  of  the 
restoration  became  the  measure  of  its  fanaticism,  and  it 
was  restored  Heathenism  which  first,  with  all  the  ardor 
of  a  fanatic,  began  a  war  of  extermination  against 
Christianity.  The  combatants  approached  each  other, 
not  to  join  hands,  but  only  to  grasp  each  other  the  more 
firmly  for  the  last  desperate  struggle. 


6S6  RE-ACTION  m  CHBISTIAinTY.  [book  a 


n.      THE   INTERNAL  RE-ACTION  IN  CHRISTIANITT. 

We  may  say  of  Christianity,  that  it  likewise  had  in  a 
certain  sense  drawn  nearer  to  Heathenism.  Christianity 
had  passed  through  a  comprehensive  development,  which 
may  be  concisely  described  as  its  naturalization  in  the 
world. 

The  early  Christians  had  many  of  the  characteristics 
of  men  who  have  just  entered  on  a  new  life.  While 
vividly  conscious  of  having  forced  their  way  into  an 
entirely  new  existence,  they  were  no  less  aware  that 
they  were  cut  ofP  from  their  former  life  and  separated 
from  all  those  who  were  left  behind  in  it.  Their  new 
and  youthful  enthusiasm  made  them  ready  for  sacrifice, 
rejoicing  to  suffer ;  but  the  tendency  towards  the  renun- 
ciation of  the  world  was  stronger  than  the  zeal  for  its 
conquest.  They  lived  in  constant  fear  of  losing  their 
new-found  treasure,  and  were  very  wary  of  risking  it  by 
any  proximity  to  the  world.  They  could  not  as  yet 
summon  courage  for  the  endeavor  to  make  the  new  life 
permeate  the  world  around ;  but  showed  an  inclination 
to  withdraw  into  solitude,  in  order  to  rejoice  by  them- 
selves in  the  grace  they  had  received.  They  preferred 
simply  to  have  the  enjoyment  of  it,  rather  than  to  put 
it  out  at  interest  and  work  with  it.  They  associated 
freely  with  those  of  like  views,  but  only  to  cut  them- 
selves off  the  more  strictly  from  the  rest  of  the  world. 
They  feared  to  do  many  things  lest  they  might  fall  into 
sin,  and  thus  an  element  of  legalism  easily  mingled  with 
the  earnestness  and  zeal  of  their  consecration.  The 
whole  horizon  of  their  life  was  a  narrow  one,  and  if  they 
might  choose,  it  would  be  that  man  might  speedily  leave 
this  world  and  be  at  home  with  his  Lord.    From  this 


CHAP,  m  ]       PIETISM  OP  THE  EARLl   CHUBCH.  837 

came  the  tendency  so  characteristic  of  the  Chiistian  life 
of  this  period,  to  be  chiefly  intent  on  the  next  woild,  to 
the  comparative  neglect  of  the  Christian's  duties  here , 
from  this,  the  predilection  for  occupying  the  thoughts 
with  eschatology  and  the  coming  of  Christ. 

All  this  gave  to  the  earliest  Christianity  —  let  me 
say  it  without  seeming  to  apply  modern  party-names  to 
that  period  —  an  almost  pietistic  character,  and  to  the 
Church  a  trace  of  the  conventicle.  The  coming  of  the 
Lord  was  then  believed  to  be  quite  near,  and  this  hope 
dominated  the  whole  life.  No  provision  was  made  for 
a  long  continuance  of  the  Church  on  earth,  and  all 
efforts  were  exclusively  directed  towards  remaining  in 
the  world  without  spot,  till  the  day  of  Christ's  coming. 
The  mission  of  Christianity  to  conquer  the  world,  to 
permeate  it  with  the  Christian  spirit,  and  thereby  to 
shape  it  anew,  had  scarcely  received  any  attention. 

Not  thus  could  Christianity  conquer  the  world  I     It 
must  become  larger-hearted,  must  go  to  meet  the  world,  \ 
condescend  to  it,  in  order  in  this  way  to  conquer.     The 
Church  must  not  remain  as  it  was,  it  must  strip  off  the 
guise  of  the  conventicle,  and  become  the  Church  of) 
the  people. 

Of  coulee  every  step  in  this  direction  was  fraught 
with  the  greatest  danger.  If  the  strict  exclusion  of 
the  world  were  discarded,  how  easy  would  it  be  to 
descend  to  the  level  of  the  world,  and  so  become 
entirely  unable  to  subdue  it !  For  he  who  puts  himself  / 
on  a  level  with  the  world  is  so  far  from  being  able  to 
conquer  it,  that  rather  he  is  conquered  by  it.  Instead  ' 
of  becoming  the  Church  of  the  people  in  the  true 
sense,  the  Church  might  have  become  any  and  every 
body's  Church,  and  thus  have  sacrificed  to  the  world 


888  E»-ACTION  IN  CHBISTIANITY.  [book  u 

its  eflsential  character.  There  was  imminent  dangei 
that  if  the  Church  did  not  remain  in  seclusion  and 
silence,  it  would  become  so  liberal  that  the  dividing 
line  between  Christianity  and  Heathenism  would  be 
obliterated,  and  that  the  former  would  be  wholly  ab- 
sorbed by  the  latter. 

Under  the  guidance  of  its  Lord,  the  Church  was 
victorious  over  these  dangers,  and  indeed  it  was  in  the 
great  conflicts  with  Montanism  and  Gnosticism  that  the 
changes  were  occasioned  which  brought  into  existence 
the  Church  of  the  people,  and  so  prepared  Christianity 
for  the  decisive  battle  with  Heathenism. 

The  exclusiveness  above  referred  to  seemed  indeed 
about  to  disappear  naturally.  The  fearful  storm  of  per- 
secution under  Marcus  Aurelius  had  resulted  in  the  op- 
posite of  its  object :  instead  of  annihilating  the  Church, 
it  promoted  the  Church's  growth.  In  the  comparatively 
tranquil  times  which  followed,  the  number  of  the 
Christians  increased  with  special  rapidity,  and  we  learn 
in  particular  of  an  extraordinary  number  of  conver- 
sions among  the  higher  classes.  So  that  even  TertuUian 
could  say :  "  We  are  of  yesterday,  and  yet  have  filled 
every  place  belonging  to  you,  —  cities,  islands,  castles, 
towns,  assemblies,  your  very  camp,  your  tribes,  com- 
panies, senate  and  forum  ;"^^  and  Eusebius  observes 
that  since  the  time  of  Commodus  "the  saving  word 
has  brought  the  souls  of  men  of  every  race  to  the 
devout  veneration  of  the  God  of  the  universe,  so  that 
already  in  Rome  many  of  those  distinguished  by  de- 
scent and  wealth  have  sought  salvation  with  their  whole 
house  and  family."^  The  natural  result  of  this  was 
a  relaxation,  with  many,  of  the  rigid  strictures  hitherto 
maintained.    Christians  in  the  higher  classes,  who  had 


OHAP.  ni^  RELAXED  STRICTNESS.  889 

numerous  family  connections  among  the  hetathen,  did 
not  scruple  even  to  attend  family  festiva'-S  in  heathen 
households,  and  of  course,  also,  to  be  j  resent  at  the 
customary  heathen  rites,  to  wear  garlands,  and  join  in  L- 
the  festal  banquet.  It  is  true  they  always  made  it  a 
point  not  to  participate  in  heathen  worship,  yet  the 
range  of  that  which  was  considered  permissible  was 
gradually  though  imperceptibly  enlarged.  Some  even 
ventured  to  accompany  their  heathen  relatives  to  the 
games  and  to  the  theatre.^  In  the  long  run  it  be- 
came impossible  for  the  Christians  to  refuse  military 
service  and  public  offices,  and  thus  new  ties  were 
necessarily,  though  unwillingly,  formed  with  the  world. 
Opinions  differed  very  much  in  Carthage,  when  a 
soldier  on  the  Emperor's  birthday  held  his  garland  in 
his  hand,  and  refused  to  wear  it.  When  he  was  con- 
demned to  death  for  his  refusal,  he  was  regarded  by 
some  as  a  martyr,  a  steadfast  witness,  while  others  saw 
in  him  a  fanatic,  who  had  given  unnecessary  offence  by 
his  conduct.^*  In  many  places  it  was  openly  said  to  A  .- 
be  Christian  wisdom  not  to  oppose  the  world  with  too  p^ 
great  strenuousness.  Christians  ought  not,  it  was  said, 
to  provoke  the  heathen ;  and  Titus  ii.  5  became  a  ^  - 
favorite  verse  to  excuse  various  courses  of  conduct,  by 
saying  that  they  were  adopted  in  order  that  the  name 
of  God  and  of  Christ  might  not  be  blasphemed  by  the 
heathen.'^  Under  this  pretext,  it  was  asserted  to  be 
permissible,  not  only  to  flee  from  persecution,  but  even 
to  avert  it  by  bribing  soldiers  and  magistrates.  They 
were  only,  so  they  said,  rendering  to  Caesar  the  things  ' 
that  were  Caesar's,  —  namely,  money ;  and  by  means  of 
a  pecuniary  sacrifice  providing  that  the  Church  might 
assemble  in  tranquillity,  and  keep  i\  e  Lord's  day  with- 


1 


340  EB-ACWON  m  CHRISTIANITY.  [book  i«. 

out  being  molested.^  The  discipline  of  the  churches 
also  began  to  be  more  lax.  Those  who  had  actually 
apostatized  were  received  back  into  the  Church  on 
easier  terms  than  before.  Even  when  they  were  refused 
by  the  proper  authorities,  the  members  often  took  the 
exercise  of  discipline  into  their  own  hands.  For  those 
who  had  been  in  prison,  or  had  suffered  torture  for  the 
faith,  soon  began  to  claim  as  a  right  what  had  been  con- 
ceded to  them  as  a  mark  of  honor ;  namely,  that  every 
one  whom  they  admitted  to  fellowship  should  be  re- 
garded as  thereby  re-admitted  to  the  fellowship  of  the 
Church.  And  they  exercised  this  right  in  the  most 
arbitrary  manner,  so  that  the  discipline  of  the  Church 
in  many  places  became  completely  disorganized  from 
this  cause. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  weakness  was  not  the  only 
cause  of  this  relaxation  from  the  original  stringency, 
and  that  there  was  some  truth  in  the  frequent  promi- 
nence given  to  Christian  wisdom  and  prudence.  Of 
course  what  was  feasible  so  long  as  the  churches  were 
small,  and  the  Christians  almost  without  exception 
belonged  to  the  lower  classes,  became  impossible  when 
the  churches  grew  large  and  numbered  some  members 
among  the  nobility.  It  was  easy  for  an  artisan  to  retire 
I  from  the  world,  but  how  could  a  knight,  a  senator,  or  a 
'  member  of  some  distinguished  family,  break  with  all  his 
previous  connections  when  he  became  a  Christian  ?  And 
was  such  a  course  likely  to  prove  advantageous  for  the 
Church?  Did  not  the  hope  of  the  further  spread  of 
Christianity  among  the  educated  classes  depend  mainly 
upon  those  very  connections?  And,  further,  was  it 
possible  permanently  to  withdraw  from  military  service  ? 
If  a  soldier  was  converted,  must  he  not  remain  a  soldier  ? 


01EAF.  m.]  WISDOM  AND  WEAKNESS.  841 

Rome  was  the  earthly  fatherland  of  the  Christians,  no 
less  than  others :  did  not  their  duty  as  citizens  require 
them  to  share  in  its  defence  ?  Was  it  right  for  Chris- 
tians  to  continue  to  decline  all  public  offices  ?  Would 
they  not,  as  officials,  enjoy  special  opportunities  foi 
serving  their  Lord?  But  if  they  served  as  soldiers,  if 
they  held  public  offices,  they  must  be  permitted  to  do 
many  things  which  it  had  formerly  been  held  duty  to 
avoid  as  bringing  them  into  contact  with  Heathenism. 
And  was  it  possible  to  continue  the  former  severity  of 
discipline,  when  the  churches  were  no  longer  little  con- 
venticles, but,  many  of  them,  large  congregations  in  the 
great  cities  ?  If  the  multitude  were  to  be  received  into 
the  Church,  the  standard  of  holy  living  must  not  be 
set  too  high;  or  to  speak  more  correctly  (since  this 
standard  is  not  under  the  control  of  the  Church)  it 
became  necessary  to  help  the  weak  by  not  making  the 
way  to  reconciliation  with  the  Church  too  difficult  for 
such  as  stumbled  and  fell. 

Yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  relaxation  of  former 
stringency  betrayed  much  real  weakness,  which  was 
only  hidden  under  the  pretext  of  Christian  wisdom  and 
foresight.  The  difficult  problem  of  the  relations  be- 
tween the  Church  and  the  world  was  not  to  be  solved 
by  retaining  the  former  strictness  in  theory,  and  making 
one  concession  after  another  to  the  weakness  of  indi- 
vidual members ;  for  this  would  have  led  to  an  inclined 
plane,  by  which  the  Church  might  have  descended  to 
complete  identification  with  the  world.  And  so  it  was 
well  for  the  Church,  that  against  this  wide-spread  laxity 
there  arose  an  energetic  re-action,  which,  of  course, 
like  all  re-actions,  not  merely  strove  to  maintain  the 
previous  practice,  but  went  beyond  it,  and  so  impelled 


342  RE-ACTION  IN  CHRISTIANITY  [booe  a 

the  Church,  in  vanquishing  the  extreme  party,  to  an 
intelligent  search  for  the  true  position. 

This  re-action  took  the  form  of  what  was  called  Men 
tanism,  the  doctrine  of  a  sect  which  obtained  its  name 
from  its  supposed  founder,  Montanus.  It  arose  about 
the  middle  of  the  second  century  in  Phrygia,  and  by 
the  beginning  of  the  third  it  had  become  prevalent  and 
to  some  extent  predominant  in  Asia  Minor  and  Africa, 
also  in  Rome  and  the  West  in  general.  The  prime 
object  of  Montanism  was  to  preserve  the  early  strict- 
ness of  conduct  and  discipline,  and  to  restore  it  where 
it  had  been  relaxed.  Yet  it  did  not  stop  there,  but 
sought  to  increase  stringency  beyond  the  former  lim- 
its. With  this  object  its  prophets  and  prophetesses 
re-awakened  the  expectation  of  the  speedy  advent  of 
Christ,  which  had  already  become  weakened.  The 
Montanists  proclaimed  that  the  end  of  the  world  was 
at  hand,  and  that  the  Church  had  entered  upon  the 
last  period  of  its  existence;  the  period  of  the  Para- 
clete, of  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  was  giving  to  the  Church 
by  the  mouth  of  his  prophets  a  new  law,  new  precepts 
for  conduct  and  discipline.  These  precepts  without 
exception  inculcated  an  increase  of  strictness.  The 
former  rule  had  been:  what  is  not  forbidden  is  per- 
mitted. But  now  the  rule  was :  what  is  not  expressly 
allowed  is  forbidden.  The  Church  was  bidden  to  sun- 
der itself  more  sharply  from  the  world.  Montanism 
took  a  position  directly  opposed  to  all  worldly  culture, 
art,  science,  and  pleasure.  All  these  were  sinful,  and 
the  Christian  must  not  become  involved  in  them.  Great 
stress  was  laid  upon  the  duty  of  marty  rdom,  and  every 
evasion  of  it,  even  an  escape  by  flight,  was  punished  as 
a  denial  of  the  faith.    The  fasts  were  made  more  strictM 


CBikF.  m.]  MOHTTANISM.  349 

and  enforced  with  the  severity  of  a  law.  Much  impor- 
tance was  attached  to  many  little  things,  such  as  that 
virgins  were  not  to  come  to  church  without  being  veiled 
But  above  all,  the  discipline  of  the  Church  was  made 
much  more  strict,  and  in  this  the  essential  character  of 
Montanism  is  most  clearly  seen.  Montanism  absolutely 
and  forever  refused  to  receive  again  into  the  Church  all 
who  had  fallen  into  mortal  sin,  even  after  their  repent- 
ance. God  might  receive  them  again  (that  possibility 
was  not  denied),  but  the  Church,  never. 

If  this  sect  had  gained  the  upper  hand  in  the  Church, 
the  Church  could  never  have  become  a  factor  in  the 
world's  history.  It  would  have  shrivelled  up  to  a  con- 
venticle, condemned  to  immobility,  and  possessing  no 
influence  upon  the  life  of  the  people.  If  it  had  shut  ^ 
up  the  doors  between  itself  and  the  world,  it  would  / 
have  become  incapable  of  conquering  the  world.  By 
taking  a  position  opposed  to  science  and  art,  the  Church 
would  never  have  had  the  power  to  bring  forth  a  Chris- 
tian science,  a  Chris^tian  art.  It  might  thus  have  fos- 
tered within  its  walls  a  heroic  renunciation  of  the  world, 
it  might  have  produced  characters  of  intense  devotion, 
saints  and  sufferers,  but  it  could  never  have  become  the 
teacher  of  the  people.  For  it  is  a  necessary  condition 
of  education,  that  the  teacher  should  be  able  to  come 
down  to  the  level  of  the  taught,  and  that  was  impossible 
to  such  a  community  of  saints.  They  were  acquainted 
with  only  a  discipline  which  excludes,  not  an  education 
which  wins  and  gathers  in.  And  in  this  way  thf 
Church  could  never  have  laid  the  foundation  for  the 
reconstruction  of  the  State,  since  a  Christian  State  is 
inconceivable  from  the  Mon'^anistic  point  of  view.  But 
the  Church  succeeded  in  conquering  Montanism,  though 


844  RB-ACnON  IN  CHRISTIANTTT  [book  u 

only  after  a  severe  struggle,  and  that,  withoat  itseU 
being  led  into  the  opposite  extreme ;  a  fact  which  must 
be  taken  into  account  in  order  to  appreciate  the  real 
value  of  the  victory.  The  Church  did  not  disregard 
the  warning  against  laxity,  which  was  contained  in 
Montanism,  but  it  realized  no  less  the  necessity  of  be- 
coming naturalized  in  the  world,  and  deserves  the 
recognition  of  the  fact  that  it  long  held,  on  the  whole, 
to  the  golden  mean.  Without  letting  go  the  hope  of 
the  final  advent  of  the  Lord,  the  Church  entered  upon 
its  historical  development  and  its  citizenship  on  earth. 
Without  renouncing  the  high  standard  of  sanctification 
in  its  members,  the  Church  learned  condescension  to 
the  weak.  While  sustaining  discipline  with  all  energy, 
the  Church  also  held  open  to  the  fallen  a  way  of  return. 
Though  conscious  that  it  was  not  of  this  world,  yet  the 
Church  gave  scope  to  all  that  is  great  and  beautiful  in 
nan,  according  to  the  apostolic  word,  "all  things  are 
yours."  The  purely  negative  renunciation  of  the  world 
gave  place  to  the  victory  over  it,  which  indeed  is  the 
end,  to  which  renunciation  is  only  a  means ;  and  hence- 
forth the  Church  more  and  more  recognized  its  mission 
to  permeate  all  things,  including  science,  art,  and  the 
life  of  the  people,  with  the  spirit  of  Christianity. 

The  antipode  of  Montanism  is  Gnosticism.  It  is  dif- 
ficult in  a  few  lines  to  sketch  this  Gnosticism,  whose 
first  germs  appeared  in  the  apostolic  age,  and  which 
grew  into  a  great  danger  for  the  Church  in  the  second 
century.  Gnosis  means  knowledge^  and  the  essence 
of  this  movement  lies  in  the  word  which  furnished  its 
name ;  since  it  put  Gnosis,  that  is  knowledge,  into  the 
place  of  faith.  To  the  Gnostic  the  great  question 
was  not,  "What  mrst  I  do  to  be  saved?"  but  his  ia 


OHAP.  m.]  GNOSTICISM.  845 

quiries  concerned  the  genesis  and  develoj»ment  of  the  . 
world,  the  origin  of  evil,  and  the  restoration  of  the 
primitive  order  of  things  in  the  world.  In  the  very 
knowledge  of  t'hese  was  redemption  as  the  Gnostic 
understood  it.  Thus,  by  combining  with  the  ideas 
original  to  Christianity  the  most  various  elements,  such 
as  Greek  philosophy,  Jewish  theology,  and  ancient  Orien- 
tal theosophy,  great  systems  of  speculative  thought  were 
constructed,  all  with  the  object  of  displaying  the  process 
of  the  world's  development.  According  to  this  develop- 
ment, from  a  pantheistic  First  Cause  emanates  a  series  of 
beings  called  jEons,  beings  of  Light,  of  which  each  in 
succession  as  it  recedes  from  the  First  Cause  is  also  less 
perfect  than  the  preceding.  Finally  the  last  and  lowest 
comes  into  contact  with  Matter,  which  from  all  eternity 
has  stood  opposed  to  the  divine  Light  —  as  Darkness. 
Non-existence,  and  all  that  is  the  reverse  of  divine. 
From  this  contact,  from  the  mingling  of  the  Light  with 
Matter,  the  visible  world  comes  into  being,  in  which  a 
portion  of  spiritual  being,  of  Light,  is  held  captive  by 
Matter  and  combined  with  it.  Redemption  is  the  liber-  / 
ation  of  this  captive  Light  from  the  fetters  of  Matter,  ?> 
the  dissolution  of  this  union,  and  the  restoration  of  the 
original  order  of  things.  This  redemption  has  been 
accomplished  by  Christ.  This  last  tenet  bears  testimony 
to  the  connection  of  Gnosticism  with  Christianity,  in 
contrast  to  many  similar  heathen  svstems,  but  of  course 
what  the  Gnostics  call  xedemption  is  something  entirely 
different  from  that  to  which  the  Scriptures  give  the 
same  name.  Gnostic  redemption  is  not  deliverance  , 
from  sin,  but  the  restoration  of  cosmic  order,  and  so 
Christ  is  to  them,  not  the  Saviour  who  brings  salvation, 
forgiveness  of  sin ;  his  sphere  is  not  saving,  but  the 


846  EB-ACTION  IN  CHBISTIANITy.  [b  .« n 

/ordering  of  the  universe.  There  is  no  place  in  the 
/Gnostic  system  for  the  creation,  or  for  the  incarnation. 
The  view  that  Matter  in  itself  is  evil,  excludes  the  pos- 
sibility of  Christ's  having  really  assumed  a  human 
nature.  Only  in  appearance  did  he  become  man,  and 
his  whole  life  on  earth,  especially  his  passion  and  death, 
were  all  an  illusion.  The  Gnostics  were  thorough 
Docetists,  that  is,  they  treated  the  whole  manifestation 
of  Christ  as  only  a  semblance.  The  events  which 
brought  salvation  were  not  facts  to  them,  but  remained 
only  as  symbols,  and  the  substance  of  Christianity  was 
evaporated  into  speculative  ideas. 

I  have  already  called  Gnosticism  the  antipode  of  Mon- 
tanism.  Such  indeed  it  was.  If  Montanism  was  over- 
narrow,  here  we  find  an  all-embracing  breadth.  Gnos- 
ticism knew  how  to  utilize  every  mental  product  of  the 
age.  Elements,  oriental  and  occidental,  in  a  curious 
medley,  philosophy  and  popular  superstition,  all  were 
collected  and  used  as  materials  for  the  building  of 
Gnostic  systems.  The  myths  of  the  heathen  may  be 
found  side  by  side  with  the  Gospel  histories,  which 
were  only  myths  to  the  Gnostic.  One  proof-text  is 
taken  from  the  Bible,  and  the  next  from  Homer  or 
Hesiod,  and  both  alike  are  used  by  an  allegorical 
exegesis  to  support  the  ready-made  creations  of  the 
author's  fancy.  Breadth  enough  too,  in  morality ;  no 
trembling  fear  of  pollution,  no  anxious  care  to  exclude 
the  influence  of  Heathenism.  It  was  no  fiction  inspired 
by  the  hatred  of  heresy,  when  the  Gnostics  were  said 
to  be  very  lax  in  their  adhesion  to  the  laws  of  morality. 
Many  of  them  expressly  permitted  flight  frcm  persecu- 
tion. 
Gnosticism  extended  fiar  and  wide  in  the  second 


CHAP,  m.]         GNOSTICISM  AND  THE  CHURCH.  847 

century.  There  was  something  very  imposing  in  those 
mighty  systems,  which  embraced  heaven  and  earth. 
How  plain  and  meagre  in  comparison  seemed  simple 
Christianity !  There  was  something  remarkably  attrac- 
tive in  the  breadth  and  liberality  of  Gnosticism.  It 
seemed  completely  to  have  reconciled  Christianity  with 
culture.  How  narrow  the  Christian  Church  appeared ! 
Even  noble  souls  might  be  captivated  by  the  hope  of 
winning  the  world  over  to  Christianity  in  this  way; 
while  the  multitude  was  attracted  by  the  dealing  in 
mysteries  with  which  the  Gnostic  sects  fortified  them- 
selves, by  offering  mighty  spells  and  amulets,  thus 
pandering  to  the  popular  taste.  Finally,  some  were  no 
doubt  drawn  in  by  the  fact  that  less  strictness  of  life 
was  required,  and  that  they  could  thus  be  Christians 
without  suffering  martyrdom. 

But  the  victory  of  Gnosticism  would  have  been  the 
ruin  of  Christianity.  Christianity  would  have  split 
into  a  hundred  sects,  its  line  of  division  from  Hea- 
thenism would  have  been  erased,  its  inmost  essence 
would  have  been  lost,  and  instead  of  producing  some- 
thing really  new,  it  would  have  become  only  an  element 
of  the  melting  mass,  an  additional  ingredient  in  the 
fermenting  chaos  of  religions  which  characterized  the 
age. 

And  the  Church  fought  as  for  its  life  with  all  the 
forms  of  the  false  Gnosis.  Over  against  the  mighty 
fciystems  of  the  Gnostics,  the  Church  stood,  in  sober 
earnestness  and  childlike  faith,  on  the  simple  Christian 
doctrine  of  the  apostles.  This  was  to  be  sought  in  the 
churches  founded  by  the  apoetles  themselves,  where 
they  had  defined  the  faith  in  their  preaching.  Tradition 
wag  appealed  to  against  the  heretics,  but  in  truth  with 


348  RB-ACTION  IN  CHBISTIANITY  [book  u 

the  same  end  in  view  which  the  Reformers  had  in  going 
back  to  the  Scriptures,  in  oider  to  oppose  a  corrupted 
tradition.  For  then  the  Church  was  in  direct  possession 
of  an  unadulterated  tradition,  from  which  the  doctrine 
preached  by  the  apostles  could  be  known  with  certainty. 
At  this  time  the  Church  began  to  make  a  trustworthy 
collection  of  the  apostolic  writings,  and,  on  the  basis 
of  both  scripture  and  tradition,  held  with  the  greatest 
tenacity  to  the  historical  facts  as  the  basis  of  true 
Christianity,  parrying  every  attempt  to  transform  them 
into  semblances  or  symbols.  These  facts  were  con- 
densed, on  the  basis  of  scripture,  into  a  short  rule 
of  faith,  and  this,  whose  perfected  expression  in  the 
"Apostles'  Creed"  is  still  our  rule  of  faith,  was  set 
up  as  a  firm  breakwater  against  the  flood  of  Gnostic 
speculation.  In  it,  over  against  the  Gnostic  scheme  of 
seons  emanating  from  the  First  Cause,  the  Church 
acknowledged  with  clear  simplicity  God  the  Father, 
Maker  of  heaven  and  earth.  In  opposition  to  Gnostic 
idealism,  the  Church  avowed  its  faith  in  the  real  histori- 
cal facts,  that  the  Son  of  God  truly  became  man,  was 
born  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  was  truly  crucified  and  died, 
truly  rose  again.  Thus  the  Church  rescued  Christianity, 
and  also  began  the  framing  of  a  confession  of  faith, 
created  the  elements  of  a  catechism,  and  so  supplied 
the  necessary  basis  for  the  Church  of  the  people. 
Neither  Gnosticism  nor  Montanism  could  have  produced 
a  Church  of  the  people.  Montanism  would  only  have 
gathered  a  conventicle  of  select  saints,  while  Gnosti- 
cism would  indeed  have  brought  together  a  great  multi- 
tude, but  without  any  definite  boundary  on  the  side  of 
Heathenism,  so  that  no  one  would  have  known  whether 
the  members  of  the  Church  were  Christians  or  heathen. 


CWAF.  in.]  POLITY  OP  THE  CHURCH.  84ft 

But  the  Church,  by  the  conquest  of  both  Montanism 
and  Gnosticism,  really  took  the  form  of  a  Uhui'ch  for 
che  people. 

Finally,  in  the  midst  of  these  struggles,  there  grew 
up  something  not  less  important  to  the  development 
of  the  Church  than  its  victories,  namely,  the  form  of 
its  polity. 

From  the  first,  the  Church  had  had  a  polity ;  church- 
offices  had  always  existed.  To  imagine  the  churches 
as  at  any  time  without  administration  and  organization 
would  be  entirely  unhistorical.  Where  the  apostles 
founded  churches,  they  also  appointed  officials.  These 
were  called  Presbyters^  that  is.  Elders;  or,  what  had 
then  the  same  meaning.  Bishops^  that  is,  OverseersP 
Every  church  had  several  of  these  officials;  no  single 
person  stood  at  the  head  of  the  church,  but  a  college 
of  equal  elders  held  sway.  Yet  their  office  was  not 
primarily  that  of  teaching.  Teaching  was  the  preroga- 
tive of  the  apostles ;  and,  in  a  broader  sense,  any  mem- 
ber of  the  church  might  come  forward  as  a  teacher,  if 
he  had  a  gift  for  the  work.  Only  the  women  were 
excluded  by  Paul.  The  duty  of  the  elders  was  rather 
to  preside  over  the  church,  to  guide  and  govern  it. 
Their  office  was  primarily  to  rule.  But  of  course  it 
naturally  came  to  pass  that  the  duty  of  building  up  the 
church  in  doctrine  was  committed  to  them,  since  they, 
as  the  most  prominent  members,  were  best  fitted  foi 
the  task.  Beside  the  Eldership,  but  subordinate  to  it, 
was  the  office  of  Deacon^  that  is.  Servant^  not  principally, 
still  less  exclusively  (as  some  represent  it  nowadays), 
4U  office  of  almsgiving,  but  of  service  generally,  auxil- 
iary to  the  Presbyterate,  and  so,  of  course,  largely  con 
aected  with  the  work  of  charitv  in  the  church. 


860  EE-ACTION  IN  CHRISTIANITY.  [book  n. 

Tbe  Eldership,  however,  was  only  a  l(»cal,  not  an 
ecclesiastical  oflBce ;  that  is,  it  related  only  to  the  local 
church,  not  to  the  Church  at  large.  The  local  churches, 
apart  from  the  bond  of  sharing  the  labors  of  the  apos- 
tles, who  belonged  to  no  local  church,  were  only  united 
by  the  connection  of  one  common  faith,  and  by  the  tie 
of  love  which  embraced  all.^  An  organic  connection 
through  an  ecclesiastical  office,  which  should  rule  ovei 
several  local  churches,  had  not  then  come  into  being. 

The  organization  of  the  churches  remained  in  this 
simple  condition  after  the  apostolic  age  and  into  the 
second  century.  Few  forms  were  needed,  because  the 
Spirit  was  still  present  in  fulness  of  life  and  power, 
while  the  churches  were  small,  and  all  their  relations 
very  simple.  But  with  the  first  decade  of  the  second 
century,  an  important  change  came  about.  Not  at  one 
time  in  all  the  local  churches,  still  less  by  any  common 
decision,  but  by  an  inward  necessity,  which  made  itself 
felt  simultaneously  in  different  localities,  one  of  the 
presbyter-bishops  was  raised  from  among  his  peers  to 
be  the  leader,  and  to  him,  with  the  thenceforth  restricted 
title  of  bishop,  the  government  of  the  church  was  con- 
fided ;  so  that  there  were  offices  of  three  grades :  a  sin- 
gle bishop  and  a  plurality  of  elders  and  of  deacons. 

In  this  new  form  the  episcopal  office  was  still  only 
over  the  local  church,  and  the  difference  between  the 
rulers  and  the  ruled  was  regarded  as  only  a  difference 
of  office,  not  yet  as  the  difference  of  two  distinct  orders. 
Bishops  and  elders  were  not  contrasted  as  priests  with 
the  laity,  but  all  Christians  were  priests. 

In  the  conflict,  however,  with  Montanism  and  Gnosti- 
cism, a  further  development  appeared.  From  a  simple 
local  office,  the  episcopacy  became   an    ecclesiastica*' 


CHAP  ra]  ECCLESIASTICAL  EPISCOPACF.  851 

office.  When,  in  the  struggle  against  Gnosticism,  it 
became  important  to  insure  the  purity  of  the  faith,  the 
traL^smission  of  the  rule  of  faith  connected  itself  with 
the  episcopal  office.  To  the  bishop  was  confided  the 
task  of  preserving  the  purity  of  the  doctrine  handed 
down.  When  in  the  struggle  against  Montanism,  it 
became  important  to  re-organize  the  discipline  of  the 
churches,  it  was  the  bishop  again  to  whom  the  exercif^e 
of  discipline  was  assigned.  He  who  was  in  fellowship 
with  the  bishop  was  in  fellowship  with  the  local  church 
and  with  the  Church  at  large.  The  bishop  represented 
the  local  church,  and  the  bishops  collectively  the  whole 
Church.  Then  the  clergy  began  to  be  more  sharply 
distinguished  from  the  Laos^  the  people,  the  laity.  The 
clergy  alone  were  invested  with  the  priestly  character, 
and  on  the  basis  of  the  name  priest^  the  comparison  with 
the  Old  Testament  priesthood  secured  to  them  place 
and  power.  Thus  we  come  to  find  a  firm  and  orderly 
hierarchy,  and  the  more  the  Church  showed  its  need  of 
strong  leaders  in  its  mighty  conflicts  within  and  without, 
the  more  did  this  hierarchy  develop  in  power. 

If  now  we  for  a  moment  compare  the  Church  soon 
after  the  death  of  the  aposfes,  let  us  say  about  at  the 
time  the  first  century  gave  place  to  the  second,  with  the 
Church  at  the  middle  of  the  third  century  in  the  time 
of  Cyprian,  bishop  of  Carthage,  in  whom  for  the  first 
time  the  episcopal  office  meets  us  in  its  full  maturity  as 
an  ecclesiastical  office ;  what  a  development  has  come 
about !  The  Church  has  grown  outwardly,  the  whole 
Empire  is  occupied  by  it ;  no  longer  do  only  artisans 
and  women  confess  Christ,  but  the  churches  can  count 
their  members  in  all  ranks.  The  Church  is  also 
strengthened  within,  and  has  naturalized  itself  in  the 


352  RE-ACTION  IN  CHRISTIANITY.  [book  u 

world.  It  is  true,  the  first  new  radiance,  or  rather  the 
supernatural  glory,  which  signalized  the  entrance  of 
the  Church  into  the  world,  is  disappearing :  the  Chris- 
tian life  is  now  calmer  and  more  sober.  The  hope  of 
the  speedy  advent  of  Christ,  which  shone  so  brightly  in 
the  early  days,  has  now  become  dimmed.  The  Church 
has  reconciled  itself  to  the  destiny  of  a  longer  continu- 
ance in  this  world,  of  a  longer  progress  through  history. 
And  the  Church  has  armed  for  it  also.  A  clear  con- 
sciousness of  the  facts  on  which  the  Church's  being 
rests  has  been  attained.  Its  polity  is  firmly  settled,  the 
great  multitude  of  churches  are  one  in  faith,  and  form 
a  compact  organization  with  distinct  grades  of  office. 
The  prospect  has  widened,  there  has  awaked  among 
Christians  a  sympathy  with  all  things  great  and  beau- 
tiful among  men,  including  art  and  letters.  Already 
Christianity  can  show  adherents  who  defend  their  faith 
by  their  writings.  Already  men  like  Irenseus  and  Ori- 
gen  have  drawn  the  first  plans  of  a  Christian  theology ; 
already  have  appeared  the  beginnings  of  Christian  art, 
which  like  a  young  scion  on  an  old  stock,  will  bring 
forth  new  blossoms.  The  Church  is  no  longer  a  con- 
venticle of  recluses  who  shun  the  world,  but  appears  in 
the  character  of  the  Church  of  the  people,  able  and 
zealous  in  educating  the  masses  by  instruction  and  doo- 
trine,  and  a  discipline  as  wise  as  it  is  strict. 

Such  a  Church  must  also  view  the  world  from  a  dif- 
ferent point,  and  estimate  its  own  mission  differently 
from  the  earlier  Church.  The  heathen  world  is  growing 
old,  and  after  the  manner  of  the  aged,  it  turns  its  gaze 
backwards,  for  there  is  the  golden  age  now  lost  and 
gone.  The  present  age  is  one  of  iron,  and  more  and 
more  dawns  upon  Heathenism  the  consciousness  that  it 


CHAP,  in.]      NEW  ASPTRATIONS  OF  THE  CHURCH  853 

is  the  waning  power.  Christianity  is  the  growing  might , 
with  the  energy  of  youth  it  looks  the  future  in  the  face, 
and  there  sees  victory  beckoning  onward.  And  how 
changed  are  now  its  ideas  of  that  triumph  !  The  earliei 
period  had  \io  thought  of  any  victory  but  that  which 
Christ  was  to  bring  at  his  coming.  The  Roman  Em- 
pire and  the  heathen  world  were  to  endure  till  the 
coming  of  the  Lord.  "  The  persecutions,"  says  Justin 
Martyr,  "  will  continue  till  the  Lord  comes  and  sets  all 
free."  ^  Even  with  TertuUian  the  continuance  of  this 
world  is  to  coincide  with  that  of  the  Roman  Empire. 
The  moment  of  the  collapse  of  the  Roman  Empire  is 
also  for  him  the  moment  of  Christ's  return.  Therefore 
the  Christians  pray  for  the  Empire,  and  give  their  aid 
in  prolonging  its  existence,  since .  they  thus  pray  and 
work  for  a  mora  finis,  a  delay  of  the  end.  Tertullian 
thinks  it  foolish  and  absurd  to  expect  that  Roman 
Emperors  will  ever  be  Christians.^  But  in  the  time 
of  Cyprian  the  hopes  of  the  Christians  are  directed 
towards  another  victory :  they  begin  to  grasp  the  idea 
that  Christianity  will  vanquish  Heathenism  from  within, 
and  become  the  dominant  religion  in  the  Roman  Em- 
pire. Celsus  had  said  to  the  Christians :  "  If  all  men 
were  to  act  like  you  .  .  .  the  afPa,irs  of  the  earth  would 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  wildest  and  most  lawless  bar- 
barians ;  and  then  there  would  no  longer  remain  among 
men  any  of  the  glory  of  yo  ir  religion  or  of  the  true 
wisdom."  Origen  answers ;  "  If  all  do  as  I  do,  then  it 
is  evident  that  even  the  barbarians  when  they  yield 
obedience  to  the  word  of  God  will  become  most  obedi- 
ent to  the  law,  and  most  humane.  And  every  form  of 
worship  will  be  destroyed  except  the  religion  of  Christ, 
which  will  alone  prevail.    And  indeed  it  wiJl  one  day 


354  BE-ACTION  IN  CHRISTIAIOTY.  Iboob.  a 

triumpli,  as  its  principles  take  possession  of  the  minds 
of  men  more  and  more  every  day."  " 

This  is  a  presentiment,  nay  more,  it  is  the  certainty, 
of  victory.  But  in  order  to  lay  hold  upon  the  victory 
much  blood  must  yet  be  shed,  far  more  than  has  already 
flowed.  The  severest  stress  of  the  conflict  still  lies 
before  the  Church  now  confirmed  in  its  strength.  Re- 
stored Heathenism  first  made  the  attempt  to  annihilate 
Christianity  by  general  persecutions.  But  it  will  be 
seen  that  restored  Heathenism  is  only  a  galvanized 
corpse,  unable  to  inspire  the  declining  State  with  a  new 
life ;  and  then  not  by  the  favor  or  freak  of  an  Emperor, 
but  by  an  inward  necessity  the  victory  will  fall  to  Chris- 
tianity, which  has  remained  faithful  even  under  the 
severest  persecutions. 


I 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  GENERAL  PERSECUTIONS. 

"  We  are  accounted  as  sheep  for  the  slaughter." — Bom.  -vlii  Sft 

I.     FROM   MARCUS  AURELTOS   TO   DECIU8. 

The  fearful  storm  of  persecution  under  Marcus 
Aurelius  was  succeeded  by  a  time  of  comparative  quiet : 
as  if  the  Church  was  given  a  respite  in  which  to  build 
up  and  strengthen  itself  in  peace,  before  the  coming  of 
the  most  terrible  storms.  Commodus,  the  degenerate 
son  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  left  the  Christians  unmolested. 
Marcia,  his  favorite,  even  contrived  to  influence  him  in 
their  favor.  She  obtained  from  the  Roman  bishop  a  list 
of  the  Christians  who  were  languishing  in  the  mines  of 
Sardinia,  and  influenced  Commodus  to  set  them  free.* 
Commodus  was  more  attached  to  his  foreign  gods,  par- 
ticularly to  those  of  Egypt,  than  to  the  religion  of  the 
Roman  State,  and  if  he  promoted  one,  he  might  also 
permit  the  existence  of  another  foreign  religion  of  the 
East,  namely,  Christianity.  Yet  the  laws  enacted 
hitherto  remained,  though,  when  Christians  were  ac- 
cused, recourse  was  had  to  the  earlier  procedure  undei 

3fi5 


356  FROM  M.  AUEELIUS  TO  PECIUS.  [book  n 

Trajan.  It  created  a  stir  when  in  Rome  Apcllonius,  a 
senator,  was  denounced  as  a  Christian  by  his  own  slaves, 
as  is  narrated.  He  made  his  defence  before  the  Senate 
itself,  and  was  condemned  to  death  by  his  peers.  And 
thus  the  highest  corporate  body  in  the  Empire  listened 
to  the  confession  of  Christ.^ 

Under  Septimius  Severus  the  indictments  and  execu- 
tions became  more  numerous.  The  Emperor  seems  to 
have  been  at  first  favorably  disposed  towards  Christian* 
ity.  It  is  said  that  Proculus,  a  Christian  slave,  cured 
him  of  a  severe  sickness  by  means  of  anointing  with 
oil.^  Perhaps  it  was  the  vigorous  propagation  of  Chris- 
tianity at  this  time  which  led  to  a  change  in  his  views. 
The  laws  against  Christianity  as  a  prohibited  religion 
were  renewed  in  the  year  A.D.  202,  and  embracing  it 
was  forbidden  with  greater  strictness  than  before.* 
And  so  the  judicial  persecution  of  the  Christians  began 
once  more.  Where  the  governors  were  unfavorable, 
executions  ensued,  while  other  governors  were  less  se- 
vere or  used  the  occasion  only  to  enrich  themselves  by 
extorting  money  from  the  Christians.^ 

The  persecution  raged  for  a  time  with  great  violence 
in  Egypt  and  Africa,  in  Egypt  to  such  a  degree  that 
the  Christians  believed  that  the  end  of  the  world  was 
near.  In  Alexandria  Leonides,  the  father  of  that  great 
teacher  of  the  Church,  Origen,  suffered  death,  and  the 
son,  who  was  still  young,  was  only  with  difficulty  re- 
strained by  his  mother  from  following  his  father.  Next 
we  learn  the  names  of  a  number  of  Origen's  pupils  who 
likewise  won  the  martyr-crown.  Of  women,  too,  many 
died  for  their  Lord,  among  them  the  maiden  Pota- 
miaena,  who  was  burned  together  with  her  mother 
Marcella.    Basilides,  one  of  the  lictors  who  conducted 


CHAP.  IV,]  THE  MARTYRS  OF  SCILLITA.  357 

her  to  the  place  of  execution,  protected  the  maic.en  from 
the  insults  and  violence  of  the  rabble.  She  thanked 
him  and  promised  him  in  return  that  he  should  shoitly 
attain  the  crown.  That  which  he  had  seen  and  heard 
became  indeed  to  Basilides  a  call  to  Christ.  He  was 
converted  on  the  spot,  openly  confessed  his  faith,  and 
ppeedily  followed  in  death  those  whom  he  had  con- 
ducted to  execution.^ 

In  the  city  of  Scillita  in  Numidia  a  number  of  Chris- 
tians, both  men  and  women,  were  brought  before  the 
tribunal  of  the  Proconsul.  He  offered  them  mercy  if 
they  would  return  to  the  worship  of  the  gods  and  swear 
by  the  Genius  of  the  Emperor.  One  of  them,  Spera- 
tus,  replied :  "I  know  of  no  Genius  of  the  ruler  of  this 
earth,  but  I  serve  my  God  who  is  in  heaven,  whom  no 
man  hath  seen  nor  can  see.  I  render  what  is  due  from 
me,  for  I  acknowledge  the  Emperor  as  mj  sovereign ; 
but  I  can  worship  none  but  my  Lord,  the  King  of  all 
kings  and  Ruler  of  all  nations."  The  Proconsul  re- 
manded th^m  to  prison,  and  the  next  day  attempted 
once  more  tD  bring  them  to  terms.  But  they  remained 
firm  in  their  confession,  "  We  are  Christians ! "     And 


To 


when  the  Proconsul  asked  them :  "  Do  you  refuse  all 
mercy  and  pardon,  then  ?  "  one  answered  in  the  name  of 
all,  "  In  an  honorable  contest  there  is  no  mercy.  Do  as 
thou  wilt.  We  will  die  joyfully  for  Christ  our  Lord." 
At  the  place  of  execution  they  once  more  knelt  in 
prayer  together,  and  then  were  beheaded.^ 

A  few  years  later  a  number  of  martyrs  suffered  in 
Carthage,  amongst  whom  were  two  young  women,  Per- 
petua  and  Felicitas,  who  were  only  catechumens,  and 
received  baptism  in  the  prison.^  Perpetua  had  recently 
become  a  mother,  but  neither  her  love  for  her  ohild, 


358  FROM  M.  AUREUUS  TO  DBCIUS.  Tbook  n 

which  she  took  with  her  to  the  prison,  nor  the  entrea- 
ties of  her  aged  father,  could  make  her  waver.  When 
her  father  urged  her  not  to  bring  such  disgrace  upon 
the  family,  she  answered :  "  Thou  seest  this  vessel,  a 
pitcher.  Can  we  call  it  other  than  ;vhat  it  is  ?  "  And 
when  the  father  said  "  No ! "  she  continued,  "  So  I  too 
cannot  call  myself  other  than  what  I  am,  a  Christian." 
In  the  prison,  whose  darkness  at  first  frightened  her, 
since  she  had  never  experienced  such  a  thing,  she  had 
a  vision.  She  saw  a  golden  ladder  stretching  up  to 
heaven,  on  either  side  of  it  swords,  spears,  and  knives, 
and  at  its  foot  lay  a  dragon.  Being  commanded  to 
mount  the  ladder,  she  courageously  set  her  foot  on  the 
dragon's  head,  with  the  words,  "  He  will  not  harm  me 
in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,"  and  mounted  the  ladder. 
At  the  top  she  entered  a  large  garden,  and  found  there 
the  Good  Shepherd,  who  gave  her  refreshmient. 

The  prisoners  now  knew  what  awaited  them,  and 
prepared  for  their  farewell  to  this  world.  At  the  final 
public  hearing  the  Procurator  made  one  mt)re  attempt 
to  persuade  Perpetua  to  recant.  In  the  presence  of  her 
father,  he  appealed  to  her:  "Spare  thine  aged  father, 
offer  sacrifice  for  the  welfare  of  the  En^eror."  Her 
father  himself  assailed  her,  and  reminded  her  of  her 
child :  "  Have  pity  on  thy  child ! "  But  Perpetua 
quietly  answered,  "  I  cannot,  I  am  a  Christian."  All 
were  condemned  to  fight  with  the  wild  beasts  on  the 
birthday  of  the  Csesar,  Geta.  On  the  evening  before 
the  spectacle  they  held  one  last  meal  together,  which 
they  celebrated  as  an  Agape  with  prayer  and  hymns  of 
praise.  As  was  frequently  the  case,  they  were  even 
in  their  death  to  play  parts  in  a  tragedy.  It  was  in- 
tended to  clothe  the  men  as  priests  of  Saturn,  and  the 


OHAP.  iv.l  PBBPBTUA  AND  FBLICITAS.  869 

women  as  priestesses  of  Ceres.  But  they  relused.  "  We 
have  come  here,"  they  said,  "  of  our  own  free  will,  that 
we  might  not  be  deprived  of  our  freedom.  We  have 
forfeited  our  lives  in  order  to  be  delivered  from  doing 
such  things."  The  heathen  themselves  recognized  the 
justice  of  the  demand,  and  yielded.  One  of  the  mar- 
tyrs, Saturus,  found  a  speedy  release,  for  a  leopard 
killed  him  with  a  single  bite.  Perpetua  and  Felicitas 
were  put  into  a  net,  and  exposed  to  a  wild  cow.  When 
the  hair  and  dress  of  Perpetua  became  disordered,  she 
carefully  re-arranged  them,  mindful  even  then  of  wo- 
manly modesty.  When  finally  they  were  all  to  receive 
the  death-blow,  Perpetua  called  to  the  soldier,  Pudens : 
*'  Be  strong,  and  think  of  my  faith,  and  let  not  all  this 
make  thee  waver,  but  strengthen  thee."  Then  they 
greeted  one  another  with  the  kiss  of  peace,  and  were 
slain  with  daggers.  When  the  young  gladiator  ap- 
proached who  was  to  kill  Perpetua,  his  hand  trembled. 
Then  she  laid  her  hand  on  his,  and  guided  it  to  her 
throat  for  the  death-blow. 

Under  Caracalla  the  persecutions  gradually  ceased, 
and  the  Cliurch  rejoiced  in  a  perfect  peace  which  the 
sun-priest  Elagabalus  did  not  disturb.  Alexander  Seve- 
rus  and  his  mother  Julia  Mammsea  even  showed  signs 
of  favor  towards  the  Church.  In  the  private  chapel 
of  the  Emperor,  among  the  statues  of  other  great  men, 
stood  that  of  Christ.  He  was  fond  of  repeating  the 
words  of  Christ,  and  when  in  Rome  the  guild  of  the 
cooks  had  a  dispute  with  the  Christian  Church  concern- 
ing a  building-site,  he  decided  in  favor  of  the  Church, 
for  he  held,  "it  was  better  that  God  should  be  wor- 
shipped there  in  any  way  whatever,  than  that  the  space 
should  be  given  up  to  the  cooks."  ^    This  was  of  ooursa 


860  PEOM  M.  AUEELIUS  TO  DECIUS.  [book  a 

nothing  mjre  than  practical  toleration,  and  indeed  the 
succeeding  reign  soon  showed  itself  unfavorable  to  the 
Christians.^"  Maximinus  the  Thracian,  a  rude  barba- 
rian, who  plundered  even  the  heathen  temples,^^  recom- 
menced the  persecution  of  the  Christians,  less  from 
religious  or  political  reasons,  than  because  they  had 
been  favored  by  his  predecessor.  Eusebius  says,^^  he 
ordered  that  the  officers  of  the  Christian  churches 
should  be  executed.  The  order  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  literally  carried  out,  yet  in  many  places  the 
Christians  had  to  suffer.  The  Roman  bishop  Pontianus 
was  banished  to  Sardinia,  and  died  there  from  ill  treat- 
ment in  the  mines.^^  Origen  had  to  remain  concealed 
for  a  time  in  the  house  of  a  Christian  virgin  named 
Juliana.^*  The  presbyter  Protoctetus  of  CsBsarea  and 
his  servant  Ambrosius  shared  a  worse  fate.  They  were 
hurried  from  prison  to  prison,  and  underwent  many 
sufferings,  but  escaped  with  life.  Yet  Ambrosius  was 
robbed  of  his  property,  showing  that  the  avarice  of  the 
judge  played  a  part  in  the  case.  The  worst  of  the 
persecution  was  in  Cappadocia,  where  the  fanatical  pas- 
sions of  the  rabble  participated  in  it,  and  a  number 
of  Christians  sealed  their  faith  by  death.^*  Philip  the 
Arabian  is  said  to  have  showed  the  Christians  so  much 
favor,  that  the  legend  arose  that  he  himseli  was  secretly 
a  Christian .^^ 

With  the  exception  of  the  attack  made  on  the  Chris- 
tians by  Maximinus  the  Thracian,  it  may  be  said  that 
they  had  thirty  years  of  rest.  The  EmperoBS  of  this 
period  were  thoroughly  un-Roman,  even  in  their  reli- 
gious lives.  They  were  syncretists,  and  their  syncretism, 
whether  it  appeared  in  a  ruder  form,  as  in  Elagabalus, 
or  in  a  nobler,  as  in  Alexander  Severus,  brought  with 


CBAf.  IV.]        REVIVAL  OF  THE  ROMAN  SPIRIT.  361 

it  all  kinds  of  compromises,  which,  though  Christiauity 
of  course  could  not  accept  them,  yet,  for  the  first  time, 
put  Roman  Emperors  into  a  really  friendly  relation  to 
the  Christian  Church.  Naturally  it  was  not  an  endur- 
ing peace,  but  only  a  slackening  of  the  coufln^t.  As 
soon  as  the  ancient  Roman  spirit  began  to  re-act  against 
this  un-Roman  state  of  affairs,  there  would  necessarily 
begin  a  sterner  method  of  dealing  with  Christianity. 
The  rest  was  only  the  prelude  to  yet  fiercer  struggles. 
They  commenced  with  Decius,  whose  reign  marked  the 
dawn  of  a  period  of  re-action,  ending  only  with  Con- 
stantine.  The  ancient  Roman  spirit  once  more  arose 
in  its  might,  and  attempted  a  restoration  of  the  fallen 
Empire.  Closely  connected  with,  indeed  springing 
from,  this  attempt,  were  the  general  persecutions  of  the 
Christians  which  now  began.  In  order  to  understand 
this  we  need  to  recall  the  situation  of  the  Empire. 

The  frenzy  of  despotism  had  brought  the  State  to 
the  brink  of  ruin.  The  ^mpire  was  in  imminent  dan- 
ger of  destruction  from  the  utter  absence  of  all  restraint. 
Confusion  tlfe  most  complete  prevailed  everywhere. 
In  Rome  itself,  senate,  people,  and  soldiery  formed 
opposing  factions.  Day  after  day  regular  battles  were 
fought  in  the  streets,  and,  as  a  consequence,  part  of  the 
city  was  laid  waste  by  fire.  The  state  of  things  was 
similar  in  the  provinces.  No  respect  was  paid  to  the 
laws,  because  no  one  felt  an  inward  bond  of  union  with 
the  law.  Usurpers  arose  here  and  there,  and  attempted 
to  seize  the  throne,  or  were  compelled  by  their  followers 
to  make  the  attempt.  Meanwhile  the  barbarians  were 
storming  at  the  frontiers;  in  the  North  the  German 
tribes,  in  the  South-east  the  Persians,  were  already 
threatening  to   overwhelm   the   empire.     The  Franks 


362  FROM  M.  AURELIUS  TO  DECIU8  [booi:  a 

were  pouring  across  the  Pyrenees,  the  Alemanni  were 
at  the  gates  of  Milan,  the  Goths  had  destroyed  the 
celebrated  Temple  of  Diana  at  Ephesus,  the  Persians 
had  advanced  as  far  as  Antioch  in  Syria.  In  this  uni- 
versal distress  the  genius  of  Rome  arose  once  more 
from  the  only  place  where  it  still  dwelt,  the  army.  A 
series  of  Soldier-Emperors  saved  the  Empire  from  almost 
certain  destruction.  It  was  God's  purpose  that  the 
Empire  should  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Germans, 
until  it  had  become  Christianized,  and  was  thus  capable 
of  instructing  its  conquerors  in  the  Christian  religion. 

These  Emperors,  were,  it  is  true,  not  Romans  by  birth : 
they  were  provincials,  for  the  most  part  Illyrians,  but 
the  city  of  Rome  began  at  this  time  to  lose  its  im- 
portance as  the  metropolis.  The  centre  was  rotten, 
while  the  circumference  still  preserved  a  comparatively 
healthy  life.  These  Emperors,  brought  up  in  the  camps 
of  the  legions  where  the  ancient  Roman  courage,  dis- 
cipline, and  virtue  were  stilUto  be  found,  and  trained 
in  the  traditions  of  Rome,  were  indeed  more  truly 
Romans  than  the  inhabitants  of  the  city.  '  While  Rome 
was  revelling,  the  armies  had  been  guarding  the  frontier 
by  strenuous  efforts,  and  in  the  uninterrupted  succes- 
sion of  campaigns  there  grew  up  a  race  of  able  gene- 
rals. They  now  took  the  control  of  things,  and  chose, 
usually  from  among  themselves,  the  bravest  and  ablest 
men  for  the  throne.  These  were  men  who  had  served 
from  the  ranks  up,  without  much  education,  but  severe- 
ly moral  and  strict  in  discipline,  exactly  the  opposite 
of  those  dissolute  debauchees  who  had  so  often  polluted 
the  imperial  throne.  They  were  soldiers  through  and 
through,  yet  they  almost  all  showed  a  strong  tendency 
to  be  idealists,  one  may  even  say  fanatics.    Brought  up 


VHAF.  17.]  THE  SOLDIEBr-EMPBRORS.  363 

amid  war,  perpetually  in  the  camp,  they  yet  longed  for 
peace.  Their  favorite  expression  was,  that  war  was 
only  waged  for  tlfd  sal^  of  peace ;  their  dream  was,  that 
soon  there  woul(J  dawn  an  era  of  peace,  in  which  sol- 
diers would  be  1^0  longer  needed ;  they  even  attempted, 
in  the  person  o^  Probus,  one  of  the  most  powerful  of 
these  Soldier-El^erors,  to  accustom  their  armies  to  the 
arts  of  peace.  Whenever  a  short  respite  between  the 
campaigns  allowed,  Probus  would  set  his  legions  to 
digging  canals  and  planting  vineyards.  They  sought 
to  realize  the  ideal  of  peace  to  which  they  aspired,  by 
means  of  a  restoration  of  the  ancient  Roman  order 
of  things.  Roman  manners  and  morals  were  to  be 
revived  —  that  was  now  the  solution  of  the  problem. 
Some  of  these  Soldier-Emperors  addressed  the  Senate 
and  the  people  of  Rome  as  reverently  as  if  they  were 
still  the  Senate  and  people  of  the  time  of  the  Republic ; 
they  spoke  of  the  eternal  Boma  and  her  power  just  as 
a  fanatical  Republican  in  the  best  days  of  the  ancient 
city  might  have  done. 

For  the  restoration  of  the  Roman  order  of  things, 
however,  the  restoration  of  the  religion  of  the  Roman 
State  was  of  course  essential.  All  these  Emperors 
(this  too  was  a  characteristic  common  to  them)  were 
pious  heathen ;  more  than  that,  they  were  excessively 
superstitious.  In  their  broken,  changeful  lives,  perpet- 
ually surrounded  by  perils,  they  had  learned  to  heed 
omens  and  predictions.  They  ascribed  the  greatest 
value  to  the  favor  of  the  gods,  and,  well  knowing  the 
instability  of  a  throne  which  is  supported  by  power 
only,  they  sought  to  attach  their  followers  and  to  bind 
them  to  themselves  by  all  kinds  of  superstitions.  It 
was  restored  Heathenism,  fanatical  and  demon-worship 


364  FROM  M.  AURELIUS  TO  DEOIUS.  Fbook  n 

ping,  which  now  came  into  power,  and  was  represented 
even  by  the  Emperors. 

When  we  bear  this  in  mind  it  becoiHes  easy  to  under 
stand  why  just  these  Emperors  were  persecutors  of  the 
Christians,  above  all  their  predecessor^.  They  had  to 
be :  indeed  there  could  be  nothing  m||^  false,  than  to 
imagine  that  these  persecutions  arose  rrom  mere  arbi- 
trary choice,  or  from  cruelty  and  personal  hostility. 
They  were  rather  the  result  of  the  entire  political  situ- 
ation, and  were  a  necessary  product  thereof.  To  the 
schemes  of  restoration  which  ruled  this  period,  there 
was  nothing  so  antagonistic  as  Christianity.  If  ancieni 
Rome  was  to  arise  in  renewed  glory,  Christianity,  which 
utterly  opposed  the  ancient  Roman  order  of  things,  must 
be  put  out  of  the  way.  But  by  this  time  the  Church 
had  acquired  such  strength,  that  methods  such  as  Tra- 
jan had  employed  a  century  before  were  no  longer  ade- 
quate. There  could  no  longer  be  a  hope,  such  as  Tra- 
jan had  indulged,  of  subduing  Christianity  slowly  and 
gradually ;  the  only  alternative  was  the  recognition  of 
Christianity  or  its  annihilation.  The  former  was  impce  • 
sible  without  entirely  renouncing  the  whole  project  of 
restoration ;  so  the  latter  was  determined  upon.  And 
thus  the  persecution  assumed  an  entirely  new  character. 
It  was  now  no  longer  an  outbreak  of  popular  rage,  tc 
which  the  officials  yielded  in  some  places,  no  longer  a 
judicial  process  against  individuals  expressly  accused 
according  to  the  ordinary  methods  of  Roman  law,  but 
a  general  persecution,  based  on  the  deliberate  policy  ol 
the  State,  which  affected  all  Christians  alike,  and  had 
for  its  express  object  the  annihilation  of  the  Church. 


.  IV.]  PERSECUTION  UNDER  DBCIUB.  365 


n.      FROM  DECIUS  TO  GALLEENUS. 

Decius  was  the  first  to  order  a  general  persecution 
His  reason  for  so  doing  was  certainly  not  a  personal 
one,  his  antagonism  to  Philip  the  Arabian,  for  instance, 
whom  he  conquered,  and  who  was  favorable  to  the 
Christians.  The  cause  was  rather  that  purpose  of  res- 
toration which  has  been  described,  and  which  wa' 
embodied  in  Decius.  Great  ^ere  the  plans  made  by 
Decius.  Like  a  second  Trajan  (whose  name  he  as- 
sumed), he  purposed  to  re-establish  the  ancient  glory  of 
Rome.  Ancient  institutions  were  revived,  the  Senate 
regained  its  honors,  the  office  of  Censor  was  renewed, 
Rome  was  fortified  once  more  and  adorned  with  build- 
ings. It  was  impossible  that  an.  Emperor  with  such 
aims  could  behold  unmoved  a  religion,  illicit  according 
to  Roman  ideas,  extending  its  sway,  the  ancient  shrines 
deserted  and  the  temples  standing  empty.  As  a  second 
Trajan,  he  was  bound,  like  the  first,  to  undertake  the 
conflict  with  the  religion  which  was  the  enemy  of  the 
State.  Soon  after  ascending  the  throne  (A.  D.  249),  he 
issued  an  edict  in  the  year  250,  that  all  Christians  with- 
out exception  should  be  required  to  perform  the  rites  of 
the  religion  of  the  Roman  State.  ,If  they  refused  they 
were  to  be  compelled  thereto  with  threats  and  tortures. 
In  fulfilment  of  this  edict  the  local  magistrates  in  every 
place  fixed  a  term,  before  which  the  Christians  were  to 
appear  before  them,  and  to  sacrifice  to  the  gods.  Those 
who  left  their  native  land  before  this  term  were  not 
fuither  molested,  but  their  property  was  confiscated, 
and  they  were  forbidden  to  return  on  pain  of  death. 
Those  who  remained,  and  up  to  the  fixed  term  had  not 
given  proof  that  they  had  sacrificed,  were  summoned 


366  PROM  DECIUS  TO  QALLIBNU8.  [boc*  n. 

before  a  commission  of  investigation,  composed  of  the 
magistrates  and  five  of  the  principal  citizens.  Then 
they  were  dealt  with,  not  as  in  the  former  judicial  pro- 
cess, with  a  view  to  their  conviction  and  sentence,  but 
with  the  object  of  persuading  them  to  recant.  At  first 
they  were  only  threatened  and  given  a  further  respite 
If  this  did  not  succeed,  recourse  was  had  to  tortures, 
and  if  these  failed  of  the  desired  result,  the  stubborn 
recusants  were  thrown  Jh to  prison,  in  order  there  to 
shake  their  determinaticm  by  continued  tortures  joined 
to  hunger  and  thirst.  Capital  punishment  at  first  was 
"are,  and  only  resorted  to  against  bishops;  but  many 
were  killed  by  the  tortures  or  died  in  the  prisons.  The 
persecution  became  gradually  more  stern.  The  endur- 
ance of  the  Christians  provoked  greater  severity.  Be- 
cause in  some  places  the  local  magistrates  made  excep- 
tions, and  urged  the  matter  with  too  little  diligence  in 
the  Emperor's  view,  he  directed  the  prefects  to  inter- 
fere personally,  and  where  they  seemed  too  merciful 
they  were  replaced  by  others  more  strict. 

Men  of  acute  minds  had  foreboded  the  storm.  Ori- 
gen  predicted  its  coming,  g,nd  Cyprian  foresaw  it  in  a 
vision."  He  seemed  to  see  a  father  standing  between 
his  two  sons.  The  one  on  the  right  sat  in  sorrow  and 
deep  grief;  the  one  on  the  left  carried  a  net  in  readi- 
ness to  catch  those  who  stood  near.  When  Cyprian  in 
wonder  asked  who  they  were,  the  explanation  was 
given,  that  the  one  on  the  right  (Christ)  sorrowed 
because  his  commanus  were  not  obeyed ;  the  one  on  the 
left  (the  Devil)  rejoiced  because  he  would  soon  be  per- 
mitted by  the  Father  to  vent  his  rage  on  the  people. 
Thus  Cyprian  foresaw  the  persecution  in  the  shape  of 
a  distinct  judgment  on  the  laxity  which  had  bee» 


OTAi.  iv.J  APOSTASY  OF  THE  WEAK.  867 

allowed  to  enter  the  life  of  the  Christians.  But  on  th« 
majority  of  the  Christians  it  came  with  an  utter  sud- 
denness. Some  churches  had  enjoyed  uninterrupted 
quiet  for  thirty  years,  and  many  Christians  no  doubt 
believed  that  the  peace  was  to  be  lasting.  This  made 
the  panic  all  the  greater.  In  the  times  of  tranquillity 
some  impure  elements  had  found  an  entrance  into  the 
Church,  and  even  the  best  of  the  members  were  unac^ 
customed  to  conflict.  So  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at, 
that  much  weakness  was  brought  to  light.  Many  did 
not  wait  for  the  fixed  term  to  come.  Such  as  held 
public  offices,  and  respectable  citizens  who  feared  for 
their  busings,  made  haste  to  renounce  Christianity  by 
offering  sa#ifices.  "  Before  the  battle,"  Cyprian  com- 
plains, "nMny  were  conquered,  and,. withouthavingmeT 
the  enemw  were  cut  down ;  thej^d'  not^s^n  seek  to 
gain  the  leputation  of  having  sacrificed  against  their 
mlV^  ^^  It  appeared  as  if  some  had  only  awaited  this 
opportunity  to  bi||^k  loose  from  Christianity.  When 
the  commission  could  not  get  through  in  a  single  day, 
and  remanded  the  rest  to  the  next  day,  they  entreated 
to  be  allowed  to  present  themselves,  as  if  they  could 
not  assure  their  safety  quickly  enough.  Even  children 
were  brought  and  made  to  offer  incense  with  their  little 
hands.  Others  were  persuaded  by  their  relatives,  or 
induced  by  their  heathen  friends  to  go.  Pale  and 
trembling  they  approached  the  altar  as  if  they  were 
about,  not  to  sacrifice,  but  to  be  sacrificed.  The  by- 
standers mocked  them,  saying  that  they  were  too  cow- 
ardly either  to  saciifice  or  to  die.  There  were  dread 
ful  scenes.  Some  who  had  denied  were  suddenly  seized 
with  horror,  which  rose  to  madness.  A  Christian 
woman  in  Carthage,  after   she  had  pronounced  the 


^e»  FROM  DECIUS  TO  GALLIENUS.  [book  n. 

word  by  which  she  renounced  Christ,  became  dumU 
and  could  not  utter  another  word.  Another  wenl 
directly  from  the  sacrifice  to  the  bath,  and  when  she 
returned  had  become  insane.  The  venality  of  the  offi- 
cials made  it  possible  in  many  ways  to  evade  the  law. 
For  money  they  provided  the  Christians  with  a  certifi 
cate  that  they  had  sacrificed,  or,  without  coming  and 
having  such  certificate  made  out,  they  could  obtain  the 
privilege  of  having  their  names  inserted  in  the  protocol 
among  the  number  of  those  who  had  complied  with  the 
edict.  They  quieted  their  consciences  by  saying  that 
they  had  done  nothing  themselves  which  was  a  denial 
of  their  faith.  The  Church  did  not  allow  ttself  to  be 
deceived  by  these  practices,  but  declared  with  clear 
decision  that  such  a  way  of  escaping  persecution  was  a 
denial  of  the  faith.^^ 

Thus  there  was  no  lack  of  weakness,  and  the  perse- 
cution became  a  sifting  which  removed  the  chaff  out  of 
the  churches.  But  Christian  heroMa  also  was  not 
wanting.  The  church  in  Rome  led  all  the  rest  in  this. 
First  the  bishop  Fabianus  suffered  martyrdom.^  At 
the  risk  of  his  life  Cornelius  succeeded  him  in  the  epis- 
copate, and  not  long  after  in  death  too.  He  was  first 
banished,  then  executed.  Lucius,  who  had  the  courage 
to  carry  on  the  succession,  likewise  shortly  went  to 
receive  his  crown.  In  the  Catacombs  may  be  seen  to- 
day the  simple  gravestones  of  the  martyr-bishops  near 
together,  each  marked  only  with  the  name.^^  The  bishop 
Fabianus  was  accompanied  ir  death  by  Moses,  one  of 
the  presbyters.  Besides  these  the  virgins  Victoria, 
Anatolia,  Agatha,  and  a  great  multitude  of  othei 
martyrs,  died  under  fearful  tortures.  In  Alexandria 
the  number  who  were  sacrificed  was  not  less  than  in 


CHAP.  IV.]       nJCIDENTS  OF  THE  PERSECUTION.  869 

Rome."  Even  before  the  regular  process  began,  the 
rabble  attacked  individual  Christians.  They  tried  to 
compel  an  old  man  named  Metras  to  speak  blasphemous 
words.  When  he  refused  he  was  stoned  to  death. 
The^-  brought  a  woman  named  Quinta  into  a  temple, 
and  demanded  that  she  should  worship  the  idols. 
When  she  remained  firm  they  dragged  her  by  the  feet 
through  the  city,  and  killed  her.  They  broke  the  teetb 
of  ApoUonia,  a  virgin,  because  she  would  not  repeau 
the  blasphemous  words  which  were  dictated  to  her,  and 
finally  burnt  her  at  the  stake.  After  this  the  regular 
process  of  persecution  began,  and  many  more  suffered 
death  for  their  steadfastness.  Especial  mention,  is  made 
of  a  boy,  Dioscurus,  who,  though  onl/  fifteen,  bv  his 
apt  replies  and  his  firmness  under  all  tortures  extorted 
the  admiration  of  even  the  Prefect  liimself,  so  that  he 
finally  released  him  in  order,  as  he  said,  that  he  might 
come  to  a  better  state  of  mind.  Even  in  the  smaller 
towns  and  villages  of  Egypt  many  were  numbered 
among  the  martyrs.  In  the  Theba'id  the  Prefect  had 
a  Christian  husband  and  wife  crucified  side  by  side* 
They  lived  for  days  upon  the  cross,  and  encouraged  one 
another.23  In  Jerusalem  the  bishop  Alexander,  in  An- 
tioch  the  bishop  Babylas,  died  under  tortures  endiirsd 
with  steadfastness.24  In  Toulouse  the  bishop  Sat-irDi- 
nus  was  bound  to  a  wild  bull,  and  dragged  to  death.^' 

Cyprian,  the  bishop  of  Carthage,  had  withdrawn  tu 
a  safe  place  at  the  beginning  of  the  persecution.  -Be 
was  blamed  by  some  for  this,  but  his  subsequent  mar- 
tyrdom proved  that  no  lack  of  courage  was  his  rea 
son  for  hiding.  From  his  place  of  exile  he  consoled 
and  encouraged  the  members  of  his  church,  and  gave 
directions  for  their  conduct  during  the  persecntioiL 


370  FROM  DECruS  TO  GAUJBNUS.  [book  n 

The  alms  for  the  poor,  which  were  usually  managed  by 
one  person,  were  now  to  be  divided  among  the  presby- 
ters and  deacons,  so  that,  if  one  of  them  were  taken 
prisoner,  the  others  would  stni  be  able  to  carry  on  the 
work,  and,  besides,  the  poor  would  be  cared  for  all  the 
more  easily.  The  presbyters  were  to  be  diligent  in 
their  pastoral  care  of  the  prisoners  in  the  dungeons, 
and  to  carry  them  the  holy  communion,  and  yet  to  do 
all  with  caution  in  order  to  give  no  provocation  to  the 
heathen.  The  poor  were  to  be  helped  with  greater  care 
than  usual,  but  they  must  be  on  their  guard  against 
g':.ch  as  put  themselves  forward,  and  sought  —  as  was 
sometimes  the  case  —  to  cover  a  disgraceful  life  by  a 
Sbe-iaing  martyrdom.^*  The  Carthaginian  church  had 
no  h  ck  of  confessors  and  martyrs.*^  Many  of  them  lay 
in  the  dungeons  while  the  heathen  attempted  to  bring 
then?  to  denial  by  means  of  hunger  and  thirst.  Fifteen 
of  to  em  are  mentioned  who  died  of  starvation  in  the 
prison.  Others  died  by  the  pangs  of  the  torture,  and 
vet  others  were  executed.  One  of  the  members  of  the 
church,  Numidicus  by  name,  was  especially  prominent. 
H'^  had  inspired  many  with  courage  for  martyrdom,  and 
ha^  seen  his  own  wife  die  at  the  stake.  He  was  con- 
demned to  the  same  death,  and  left  lying  half  burnt 
'afJi  covered  with  stones.  His  daughter  sought  out  her 
1:4*.m5i's  body  in  order  to  bury  it.  Great  was  her  joy  at 
riiMJing  signs  of  life  still  in  him.  In  haste  she  carried 
him  home,  and  really  succeeded  by  her  careful  nursing 
in  completely  restoring  him.  Cyprian  afterwards  made 
him  a  presbyter.^ 

The  most  dreadful  thing  about  this  persecution  was 
that  the  heathen  did  not  aim  at  the  death  of  the  Chris- 
dans,  but  only  at  compelling  them  by  means  of  torture 


CHAT.  IV.]         TORMENTS  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  371 

to  recant.  "  Tortures  overtook  them,"  thus  Cyprian  ^ 
speaks  of  the  persecution,  "tortures  wherein  the  tor- 
turer ceases  not,  without  escape  of  condemnation,  with- 
out the  consolation  of  death;  tortures  which  do  not 
dismiss  them  speedily  to  their  crown,  but  rack  them 
until  they  overthrow  their  faith;  except  perhaps  that 
God  in  his  mercy  removed  one  here  and  there  in  the 
midst  of  his  torments,  and  so  he  attained  his  crown  not 
by  the  full  ending  of  his  torture,  but  by  the  suddenness 
of  death."  They  were  not  only  thrown  into  prison, 
laden  with  chains,  their  arms  and  legs  stretched  on  the 
rack;  not  only  were  the  ordinary  tortures  employed, 
the  crushing  of  the  fingers,  the  dislocation  of  the  limbs, 
the  tearing  of  the  flesh  with  nails  and  hooks,  but  the 
most  refined  and  novel  tortures  were  invented.  The 
prisoners  were  exposed  to  the  most  intense  heat,  and 
left  to  thirst  for  days ;  they  were  burned  with  fire,  with 
charcoal  and  red-hot  iron.  We  are  told  that  some  were 
stripped,  smeared  all  over  with  honey,  and  exposed  to 
the  stings  of  the  insects.  In  all  this  the  fury  of  the 
fanatical  heathen  rabble  rose  higher  than  ever  before. 
Great  was  their  rejoicing  when  they  had  succeeded  in 
torturing  a  Christian  until  he  finally  stretched  out  his 
hand  to  scatter  the  incense  on  the  idol's  altar !  How 
they  gloated  over  the  torments  of  the  poor  victim ! 
The  Christians  were  now  outlaws.  They  were  attacked 
in  their  houses,  robbed  of  whatever  was  worth  taking, 
and  the  remainder  of  their  household  goods  was  broken 
or  burned.  No  Christian  dared  to  be  seen  in  public. 
In  the  streets  they  were  insulted,  stoned,  and  beaten,  or 
a  mob  collected,  and  tried  to  induce  them  to  pronounce 
blasphemous  words. 

Those  were  the  times  in  which  the  Christians,  beset 


372  FROM  DECIUS  TO  GALLIENtJS.  [book  n. 

on  every  side,  often  betrayed  and  attacked  in  theii 
assemblies,  fled  to  the  deserts  and  the  woods,  or  de- 
scended to  the  dead  in  the  Catacombs.  There  in  little 
assemblies  they  held  their  services,  listened  to  the  Word, 
and  partook  of  the  sacrament  by  the  light  of  the  terror 
cotta  lamps  such  as  are  often  found  there  now.  Those 
who  gathered  there  did  not  know  but  that  a  fate  might 
soon  overtake  them  like  that  of  those  whose  names 
were  called  over  at  the  Lord*&  Supper  as  confessors  and 
martyrs,  or  whose  unadorned  graves  with  their  simple 
inscriptions  were  all  around  them  there.  How  solemn 
and  earnest  such  a  service  must  have  been,  truly  fitted 
to  strengthen  their  faith  for  a  joyful  confession !  Some 
had  fallen  away,  but  those  who  remained  faithful  were 
all  the  more  closely  united  in  the  distress  of  the  time. 
How  strongly  did  they  support  each  other  by  prayer ! 
Times  without  number  Cyprian  exhorted  the  church  to 
prayer  for  the  tempted  and  persecuted,  and  they  in 
turn  from  their  prison  asked  the  intercession  of  the 
church.  How  willingly  they  served  each  other,  though 
often  enough  they  had  to  pay  for  the  privilege  with 
their  lives !  What  honor  was  shown  to  the  martyrs  and 
confessors!  —  the  Christians  embraced  them  on  their 
way  to  the  place  of  execution,  and  kissed  their  chains  in 
the  prisons.  They  were  given  as  honorable  a  burial  as 
was  possible,  and  no  heed  was  paid  to  the  danger  in- 
curred in  procuring  this  for  them.  With  diligent  care 
their  names  and  the  story  of  their  martyrdom  were  re- 
corded for  a  memorial.  And  if  perchance  the  persecu- 
tion ceased  for  a  while,  and  s«^me  returned  from  the 
prisons  or  from  exile,  how  jubilantly  they  were  greeted  ! 
The  Christians  hastened  to  meet  them,  crowded  round 
them,  embraced  them  with  heartfelt  affection,  and  hung 
on  their  necks  with  kisses.^ 


OHAi.  IV.]    VAEYING  INTENSITY  OF  THE  STORM.  378 

Like  a  storm  which  lulls  indeed  for  a  while  to  return 
again  with  redoubled  fury,  the  persecution  continued 
for  a  decade.  The  endurance  of  the  Christians  wearied 
the  heathen,  or  the  zeal  of  the  Emperor  was  turned 
into  other  channels  by  campaigns  and  revolts.  Thus 
there  came  times  of  tranquillity  in  which  the  Christians 
could  breathe  once  more,  and  collect  their  scattered 
forces.  And  then  the  persecution  would  break  out 
anew,  and  with  twofold  zeal  and  new  measures  the 
heathen  would  toil  at  the  annihilation  of  the  Church. 

When  Decius  had  fallen  (A.  D.  251),  in  the  war 
against  the  Goths,  the  change  of  rule  brought  a  short 
breathing-space;  but  in  the  following  year,  when  the 
Empire  was  suffering  from  plagues  of  different  kinds, 
drought  and  famine,  the  absence  of  the  Christians  from 
the  great  sacrifices  instituted  everywhere  to  appease 
the  gods,  gave  the  impulse  for  new  persecutions.^^  At 
that  time  many  Christians  were  punished  by  being  sent 
to  the  mines.  ^  This  was  an  exceedingly  hard  lot,  for 
there  the  C|j|stians  were  worse  treated  than  galley- 
slaves. 

When  Gallus  was  murdered  by  hib  own  soldiers 
another  short  pause  ensued;  but  Valerian  took  up 
again  the  interrupted  work  of  persecution.  He  used 
different  tactics.  The  fearful  bloodshed  uncter  Decius 
had  failed.  Valerian  hoped  to  attain  the  object  with- 
out shedding  blood.  To  this  end  the  Emperor  gave 
orders  that  the  bishops  be  separated  from  their 
churches,  and  prohibited  all  assemblies  of  the  Chris- 
tians, all  gatherings  for  worship,  and  all  visits  to  the 
cemeteries  where  the  Christians  were  wont  to  pray  by 
the  graves  of  the  martyrs.^^ 

These  regulations  soon  proved  without  effect.    The 


874  FEOM  DECIUS  TO  GALLIENUS.  [book  n 

bisLops  were  banished ;  for  instance,  Cyprian  to  Guru- 
bis,  Dionysius  of  Alexandria  to  Kephro:  but  in  theii 
banishment  they  maintained  their  connection  with  their 
churches.  From  the  places  of  their  exile  they  still 
guided  their  flocks  by  letters  and  by  means  of  travelling 
clergy.  They  only  became  dearer  to  their  churches, 
inwardly  more  united  with  them ;  and  the  word  of  the 
exile  for  the  faith  was  more  effectual  than  that  of  the 
bishop  present  in  person.  In  the  places  to  which  they 
were  banished,  they  gathered  new  churches  about  them, 
and  the  seeds  of  the  gospel  were  thus  carried  to  some 
places  whither  they  had  never  come  before. 

So  the  Emperor  advanced  to  severer  measures.  In 
A.  D.  258,  he  issued  an  edict  ^  which  ordered  that  the 
bishops,  presbyters,  and  deacons  should  immediately  be 
slain  with  the  sword;  that  senators  and  magistrates 
were  to  lose  their  property,  and  if  they  still  remained 
Christians  they  were  to  be  executed  in  like  manner ; 
that  women  of  rank  should  be  banished  after  their 
property  had  been  confiscated ;  and  thaS^hristians  in 
the  service  of  the  imperial  court  should  be^ut  in  chains, 
and  divided  among  the  imperial  estates  to  labor  there. 

Thus  the  bloody  work  began  again.  The  shepherds 
of  the  flock  were  particularly  the  objects  against  which 
the  full  force  of  this  persecution  was  directed,  and  a 
large  number  of  them  sealed  their  faith  with  death. 
In  Rome  the  bishop  Sixtus  suffered  Aug.  6,  A.  D.  258. 
He  was  arrested  in  the  Catacombs  while  holding  divine 
service.  After  receiving  his  sentence  he  was  conducted 
by  the  executioner  back  again,  and  beheaded  on  the 
spot  where  he  had  just  been  celebrating  the  Lord's 
Supper.  His  episcopal  chair  was  spr^* ikied  with  his 
blood.,^     On  the  way  to  death  his  deacon  Laurentiua 


CHAP.  IV.]  DEATH  OF  CYPRIAN.  376 

met  him.  "Whither  goest  thou,  father,  without  thy 
son  ?  whither,  priest,  without  thy  deacon  ? "  said  Lau- 
rentius.  "  Cease  weeping,  thou  wilt  soon  follow  me," 
replied  the  bishop.  And  on  the  fourth  day  after,  the 
10th  of  August,  the  deacon  did  follow  him  in  death. 
Laurentius  is  said  to  have  been  roasted  on  an  iron 
chair. 

In  Carthage,  Cyprian  received  the  martyr's  crown 
Some  of  his  principal  friends  wished  to  aid  him  iti 
escaping ;  but,  though  he  had  previously  thought  it  his 
duty  to  his  church  to  save  himself,  yet  now  he  refused. 
He  only  remained  in  hiding  a  short  time  in  order  not  to 
be  taken  to  Utica,  where  the  Proconsul  was  at  that  time 
staying,  because  it  was  fitting  that  the  shepherd  should 
meet  his  death  before  the  eyes  of  his  church.  As  soon 
as  the  Proconsul  returned  to  Carthage,  Cyprian  was 
taken  prisoner,  and  brought  before  him.  An  immense 
crowd  had  collected  in  the  praBtorium.  The  hearing 
was  short.  "Thou  art  Thascius  Cj^prianus?"  —  "I 
am."  — "  T^u  hast  permitted  thyself  to  be  made  an 
official  in  a  sacrilegious  sect  ?  "  —  "  Yes."  —  "  The  sacred 
Emperors  have  commanded  thee  to  sacrifice."  —  "  That 
I  will  not  do."  —  "  Consider  it  well."  —  "  Do  what  is 
commanded  thee;  in  a  cause  so  just  no  reflection  is 
needed."  The  Proconsul  consulted  his  counsellors  and 
immediately  pronounced  the  sentence :  "  Thascius  Cyp- 
rianus  shall  be  executed  with  the  sword."  Cyprian 
answered  only :  "  Thanks  be  to  God ! "  and  the  sen- 
tence was  immediately  executed.  The  bishop  disrobed 
himself,  knelt,  and  prayed.  With  trembling  hands  the 
executioner  gave  the  fatal  blow  (Sept.  14,  A.  D.  258). 
Cyprian  was  not  the  only  martyr  in  Carthage.  Beside 
him  several  presbyters  and  deacons  met  their  death. 


876  FROM  DECIUS  TO  GALLIEKUS.  [book  ik 

When  one  of  them,  named  Montanus,  was  being  led  tG 
execution,  he  tore  the  cloth  with  which  his  eyes  were 
to  be  bound,  in  two,  and  asked  that  one-half  of  it  might 
be  kept  for  his  friend  and  fellow-presbyter,  Flavianus, 
who  would  soon  follow  him.  A  few  days  afterwards 
they  bound  the  eyes  of  Flavianus  with  the  half  of  the 
cloth,  and  he  too  received  the  deadly  stroke. 

From  Egypt,  Spain,  and  other  countries  of  the  Em- 
pire we  have  the  names  of  a  large  number  of  martyrs, 
for  the  most  part  bishops  and  presbyters.  But  the 
churches  were  not  spared.  Their  assemblies  for  wor- 
ship were  attacked,  they  were  dispossessed  of  their 
churches  and  cemeteries.  In  Rome  the  heathen  sur- 
prised a  Christian  congregation  which  was  holding  di- 
vine service  in  one  of  the  catacombs,  and  walled  up 
the  entrance  of  it,  so  that  the  Christians  perished 
within.^  In  Africa  a  multitude  of  Christians  were 
thrown  into  a  lime-kiln,  and  burned. 

As  little  was  accomplished  by  this  persecution  as  by 
those  which  preceded  it.  In  A.  D.  260,  Valerian  was 
taken  prisoner  in  a  campaign  against  the  Persians ;  and 
with  the  close  of  his  reign  the  persecution  also  ended. 
His  successor,  Gallienus,  restored  to  the  Christians  the 
buildings  and  land,  the  cemeteries  and  holy  places, 
which  had  been  taken  from  them.  He  even  wrote 
friendly  letters  to  several  of  the  bishops,  and  expressly 
declared  that  it  was  his  will  that  they  should  hence- 
forth exercise  their  office  in  peace.^^  This  was,  of 
course,  not  a  regular  legal  recognition  of  Christianity. 
It  still  remained  a  prohibited  religion.  Indeed,  even 
under  Gallienus,  Marinus,  a  captain,  suffered  martyr- 
dom, though  only  as  the  result  of  an  indictment  brought 
against  him;   and  when  Aurelian  decided  to  order  a 


CHAP.  IT.]  FORTY  YEAJRS  OF  PEACE.  377 

new  persecution,  he  had.  nc  uioed  to  revoke  the  so-called 
^dict  of  toleration  of  G^llieniis.  After  Gallienus,  as 
before  him,  it  was  a  penal  oifence  to  be  a  Chiistrin, 
only  no  one  of  the  Emperors,  in  the  Tinspeaksi.ble  con- 
fusion of  these  years,  was  sufficiently  lord  of  ths  Em- 
pire to  think  of  persecuting  the  Christians.  Thus  the 
ChuTch  snjoyed  for  forty  years  a  tranquillity  which  in 
general  was  uninterrupted.^^ 

And  the  Church  needed  rest.  It  was  like  a  fortressN 
which  had  repulsed  an  enemy,  who  had  tried  every) 
means  of  attack.  The  enemy  had  not  been  able  to 
conquer  it,  but  yet  the  walls  and  towers  lay  in  ruins  at 
some  points.,  and  the  appearance  of  the  citadel  showed 
what  it  had  suffered.  That  which  had  fallen  must  be 
rebuilt,  and  the  damages  repaired.  The  Church  did 
not  remain  uninjured  in  the  time  of  persecution,  and 
the  suffering  afterwards  was  often  worse  than  the  storm. 
Such  times  arouse  the  powers  of  the  Church,  but  they 
also  bring  great  dangers  with  them.  The  life  of  the 
Church  is  forced  out  of  its  quiet  grooves,  and,  with  a 
kind  of  one-sidedness,  all  energies  are  concentrated  on 
one  point.  Those  who  had  heroically  held  out  under 
persecution,  the  confessors  who  had  lain  in  prison,  and 
could  still  show  the  stripes  and  wounds  of  their  tor- 
turers, were  now  held  exclusively  in  honor.  The}' 
became  a  peculiar  kind  of  ecclesiastical  aristocracy. 
Earnestly  and  vehemently  as  the  faithful  teachers 
warned  them  against  pride,  it  was  natural  that  some  oi 
the  highly  venerated  confessors  should  not  withstand 
the  temptation  to  misuse  their  authority  in  the  Church 
by  aU  kinds  of  arbitrary  interference  with  the  regular 
order  of  things.^  And  this  was  the  more  dangerous, 
because  in  many  places  this  order  had  already  suffered 


378  F&Ol/^  DECIUS  TO  GALLLBSNUfe.  '^jjoon  u. 

80  much  from  the  pressure  of  the  times,  and  because 
the  Church  had  now  to  face  the  exceedingly  difficult 
question  of  the  treatment  of  those  who  had  fallen 
away  in  the  persecution.  There  were  many  such,  and 
of  different  kinds :  some  who  had  voluntarily  sacrificed, 
others  who  had  been  driven  to  do  so  by  torture,  yet 
others  who  had  bought  a  certificate,  or  had  procured 
the  insertion  of  their  names  in  the  lists.  The  confessors 
directly  interfered  in  this  matter.  They  gave  to  many 
of  the  lapsed,  who  asked  for  them,  certificat3g  of  peace, 
on  the  ground  of  which  these  then  demanded  reception 
into  the  Church,  and  in  some  places  were  re-adrrdtted 
to  the  Lord's  Supper  even  without  penitence  or  con- 
fession.3^  The  confessors  did  not  confine  themselves  to 
giving  certificates  to  particular  individuals,  but  wrote 
them  quite  indefinitely,  in  favor  of  a  numbei  of  per- 
sons.*^ They  even  meddled  in  the  affairs  of  c/^'irohes 
10  which  they  were  strangers.  Celerinus,  a  Roman, 
asked  of  a  Carthaginian  confessor  a  certificate  for  his 
two  apostate  sisters.*^  Some  indeed  came  forward  with 
the  assertion  that  they  had  been  commissioned  by  this 
or  that  martyr  before  his  death  to  give  reconciliation  to 
all  who  should  ask  for  it. 

In  opposition  to  such  dealings,  some  earnest  Christians 
insisted  on  the  greatest  strictness.  It  seemed  to  them 
unjust,  that  the  lapsed  should  so  easily  find  acceptance, 
and  thus  be  put  on  an  entire  equality  with  those  who 
had  remained  steadfast.  They  did  not  believe  in  any 
reception  of  the  lapsed  at  all.  Those  who  had  denied 
their  Lord  should  be  commended  to  God's  grace,  but 
the  Church  ought  not  to  be  polluted  by  their  reception. 
In  some  places,  these  differences  led  not  only  to  scan- 
^ous  scenes,  but  even  to  lasting  schisms.     The  strict 


CHAP.  IV.]  THE  CHURCH  AlH)  THE  IJ^SBD.  37ft 

divided  themselves  from  the  lenient,  and  formed  sepa- 
rate churches,  which  claimed  to  be  the  only  undefiled 
ones. 

In  this  difficult  situation  the  Church  strove  to  keep 
the  wholesome  middle  way.  It  was  impossible  to  shut 
her  doors  to  all  the  lapsed.  Nor  could  she  view  them 
as  those  in  whom  she  had  no  concern,  but  was  earnestly- 
solicitous  in  their  behalf,  in  order  to  lead  them  back  tc 
a  genuine  repentance.  Very  wisely  their  re-admission 
was  postponed  until  the  time  after  the  persecution. 
He  who  could  not  wait  so  long  was  free  to  reverse  his 
previous  denial  of  being  a  Christian,  and  suffer  for  it 
for  the  Church  always  regarded  those  who  did  this  as 
fully  received  back  into  fellowship.  The  matter  could 
not  be  exhaustively  settled  amid  the  disturbance  of  a 
time  of  persecution.  A  most  minute  examination  was 
necessary  (and  this  was  another  wise  rule)  in  order 
that  each  case  might  be  decided  according  to  its  peculiar 
features.  It  was  plain  that  those  who  had  yielded  only 
to  the  severest  tortures  deserved  a  different  treatment 
from  those  who  had  voluntarily  sacrificed;  that  those 
who  had  r^lly  sacrificed  stood  on  a  different  footing 
from  those  who  had  believed,  though  by  a  sinful  mis- 
take, that  Ihey  might  shield  themselves  from  persecu- 
tion by  bluing  a  certificate  of  sacrifice.  To  each  one 
was  assigned,  according  to  the  measure  of  his  guilt,  a 
time  of  probation,  during  which  he  was  to  show  the 
genuineness  of  his  repentance,  and  only  at  the  expira- 
tion of  that  time  were  they  received,  some  sooner, 
some  later ;  and  tnose  who  had  most  grievously  sinned, 
only  on  their  death-beds.  Strictness  and  leniency 
worked  together  to  lepair  the  injuries  of  the  time  of 
persecution,  and  gradually  to  re-establish  order  in  the 
churches. 


380  FROM  DECIUS  TO  GALLIENUS.  [book  n 

Another  comparison  may  be  applied  to  the  Cliiirch 
after  the  persecution.  It  was  like  a  field  after  a  thun 
der-storm.  Many  a  blade  is  broken,  many  a  bough 
torn  off,  the  water  has  made  deep  furrows  here  and 
there ;  but  the  storm  has  also  purified  the  air,  and  the 
i*ain  has  fertilized  the  land,  and  now  when  all  is  quiet 
again  and  the  sun  once  more  shines  out,  all  things 
are  growing  with  greater  freshness  and  gladness  than 
before.  So  in  the  Church  there  followed  the  persecu- 
tion a  time  of  new  and  stronger  growth.  Many  ele- 
ments of  impurity  had  been  eliminated,  the  word  of 
God  had  displayed  its  power,  the  testimony  of  the  mar- 
tyrs had  penetrated  many  a  heart.  Everywhere  the 
number  of  believers  was  increasing.  The  Christians' 
places  of  meeting  had  to  be  enlarged,  or  new  ones  built. 
In  the  cities  there  were  already  large  churches.  There 
were  Christians  everywhere,  in  town  and  country, 
among  the  rich  and  the  poor,  Christian  officers  in  the 
army.  Christian  officials  in  the  government  as  high  as 
the  Prefects,  Christian  chamberlains  and  officials  of  the 
court  about  the  person  of  the  Emperor.  It  must  have 
seemed  to  many  as  if  the  victory  were  already  Von,  but 
it  was  not.  This  was  only  a  practical  toleration,  not  as 
yet  one  really  sustained  by  law.  Emperor  acd  Empire 
were  still  heathen.  It  had  not  yet  been  "ecided  on 
what  basis  the  purpose  of  a  restoration  of  the  Empire, 
which  inspired  all  the  able  Emperors,  should  be  real- 
ized ;  whether  on  the  basis  of  restored  Heathenism  and 
the  Neoplatonic  philosophy,  or  on  the  basis  of  Chris- 
tianity and  God's  word.  In  reality  the  cause  of  the 
tranquillity  was  only  this,  that  no  one  of  the  successive 
Emperors  was  sufficiently  master  of  the  confusion  pre- 
vailing throughout  the  Empire,  to  be  able  to  commence 


CHAP.  IV.]      THE  CHURCH   GAINING   STRENGTH.  381 

the  restoration.  The  first  Emperor  who  really  suc- 
ceeded in  carrying  forward  the  plan  which  all  had 
followed,  made  the  last  attempt  to  annihilate  Chris- 
tianity. 

Thus  the  time  of  tranquillity  was  indeed  not  yet  the 
victory  longed  for,  but  only  an  interval  for  recupera- 
tion  before  tJie  decisive  battle. 


BOOK  THIRD. 


THE  VICTORY. 


**  This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  worlds  even  our  faith, 
1  John  v.  4. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  DBCISIVB  BATTLB. 

' L^k  upf  and  lift  up  your  heads:  for  your  redemption  drawee  nigh.^ 
—  Luke  xxi.  28. 

I.  THE  WORK  OF  THE  CHURCH  AMONG  THE  HEATHEN. 

The  Church  owed  its  victory  not  only  to  the  stead- 
fastness of  the  martyrs  in  times  of  persecution,  but  at 
least  as  much  to  the  faithful  work  of  its  members  in 
times  of  peace.  For  the  victory  was  indeed  no  mere 
outward  triumph,  but  the  defeat  of  Heathenism  in  its 
inner  principles.  Hearts  were  won,  consciences  con- 
vinced, the  heathen  were  made  Christian  in  disposition, 
the  views,  life,  conduct,  and  customs  of  the  people  were 
changed  from  within.  The  whole  of  this  great  trans- 
formation is  of  course  hidden  from  our  eyes  by  its 
internal  nature,  to  the  degree  that  we  are  not  now  in  a 
position  to  follow  it  step  by  step,  to  discover  its  course 
and  to  distinguish  its  stages  in  the  different  periods. 
But  we  may  gain  a  glimpse  of  the  mighty  work  of 
development  in  the  Church,  which  was  the  preliminary 
stage.  And  this  is  the  place  for  such  a  glimpse,  because 
only  thereby  can  we  come  to  comprehend  and  appreciate 

38R 


i 


886  THE  WORK  AMONG  THE  HEATHEN.       [book  m. 

that  the  victory  of  the  Church  in  the  last  decisive  battle 
was  more  than  a  lucky  stroke  of  fortune,  and  had 
causes  far  deeper  than  any  momentary  combination  of 
favorable  circumstances.  For  the  sake  of  this  prepara- 
tion, God  let  the  Church  remain  at  rest  for  a  consid- 
erable period  before  the  last  and  severest  struggle.  He 
designed  that  the  work  among  the  heathen  should  have 
so  extended,  that  even  the  utmost  efforts  of  its  enemies 
could  no  longer  avail  for  its  annihilation. 

The  early  Christians  made  no  special  provisions  for 
drawing  the  heathen  into  the  Church.  The  Christian 
worship,  so  far  as  services  of  prayer  and  preaching  were 
concerned,  was  open  to  the  heathen,  and  only  the  sepa- 
rate celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  with  which  the 
love-feast  was  connected,  was  closed  to  them.  To 
this,  the  Holy  of  Holies,  only  those  who  had  received 
baptism  and  joined  the  Church  had  access.  Thus 
Christian  worship  exerted  a  missionary  influence  upon 
the  heathen  world  beside  that  of  missionary  preaching 
proper ;  and  when  individuals  had  become  interested 
by  such  means,  they  sought  further  instruction  from 
one  of  the  officers  or  other  principal  members  of  the 
Church.  In  this  way  they  gained  a  more  particular 
knowledge  of  Christianity,  and,  for  the  most  part,  soon 
entered  into  the  actual  membership  of  the  Church  by 
baptism.  This  process  was  personal  and  private  in 
character.  Christians  who  possessed  peculiar  gifts  for 
teaching  probably  gathered  the  proselytes  around  them, 
but  there  was  as  yet  no  regular  provision  made  for 
catechumens. 

In  the  times  of  persecution  all  this  was  changed. 
The  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  which  hitherto 
had  been  separated  from  the  preaching  service  and  held 


CHAP,  i]  THE  CATECHUMENAl-E.  387 

in  the  evening,  was  joined  to  the  other  service  in  ordei 
to  avoid  the  appearance  of  transgressing  the  laws 
against  secret  assemblies ;  and  the  dangers  of  the  time 
soon  obliged  the  Christians  to  exclude  the  heathen 
altogether  from  their  worship.  The  Church  was  com- 
pelled to  withdraw  into  concealment  in  order  to  wor- 
ship God  in  peace.  Only  thus  could  disturbances  of 
the  service  be  avoided,  and  the  ridicule  and  blasphemy 
of  any  heathen,  who  might  intrude  into  the  meetings, 
be  escaped.  And  by  the  same  change  the  occasion  for 
persecution  was  removed,  so  far  as  possible.  In  this 
period  we  find  also  the  first  steps  towards  a  regular 
catechumenate.  The  position  of  the  Christians  neces- 
sitated it,  for  there  was  need  of  caution  in  two  direc- 
tions in  receiving  those  who  sought  admittance  into 
the  Church.  On  the  one  hand,  it  could  not  be  known 
whether  they  were  to  be  trusted,  or  some  enemy  and 
traitor  was  effecting  an  entrance  under  the  pretext  of 
wishing  to  become  a  Christian.  And  on  the  other  hand 
those  who  were  about  to  join  the  Church  now  lacked 
the  preparation  which  had  previously  been  supplied  by 
their  attendance  at  the  preaching  services,  since  all 
were  now  excluded  from  these  except  the  actual  mem- 
bers of  the  Church.  There  was  felt  to  be  a  need  of 
something  to  mediate  the  transition  from  a  position 
entirely  outside  of  the  Church  to  full  membership  in  it 
This  was  provided  by  the  catechumens  receiving  a 
course  of  instruction  by  this  time  fully  arranged,  with- 
out participating  in  the  worship  of  the  Church;  and 
then,  after  vows  of  renunciation,  being  admitted  to  the 
church  services  so  far  as  they  consisted  of  preaching 
and  prayer.  Thus  the  preaching  supplemented  the  in 
struction  already  received,  and  so  baptism  followed 
comparatively  soon. 


388  THE  WORK  AMONG  THE  HEATHEN.       [book  m 

The  time  of  rest  after  the  persecution  brought  a  new 
danger  with  it,  a  danger  in  some  respects  moi'e  nearly 
affecting  the  life  of  the  Church  than  the  persecution 
itself.  Great  multitudes  of  the  heathen  crowded  into 
the  Church.  How  easily  might  these  multitudes  bring 
elements  of  impurity  in  with  them !  The  cessation  of 
the  state  of  war  had  itself  an  enervating  influence. 
The  Church  could  not  venture  to  throw  open  its  shrine 
to  all  without  probation.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
was  a  subject  for  rejoicing  that  the  heathen  were  com- 
ing in,  and  access  must  not  be  denied  to  any.  With 
the  sagacity  of  a  great  teacher  the  Church  united  the 
two.  The  Sacrament,  that  Holy  of  Holies,  was  with- 
drawn into  yet  deeper  retirement,  and  while  the  outer 
doors  were  thrown  open  to  all,  there  was,  so  to  speak, 
a  long  and  narrow  way  which  led  from  the  outer  court 
to  the  inmost  shrine.  This  way  was  the  now  developed 
catechumenate.  The  preaching  service  was  once  more 
thrown  open  to  all,  even  the  heathen ;  but,  before  they 
could  receive  the  sacrament,  a  long,  carefully  arranged 
and  graded  process  of  preparation  must  be  passed 
through.  Let  us  take  a  survey  of  this  path  from  the 
first  impulse  towards  Christianity  to  the  full  reception 
into  the  Church. 

When  the  desire  to  become  a  Christian  inspired  a 
heathen,  he  made  it  known  generally  to  some  church- 
xsem^er,  and  he  in  turn  conducted  him  to  the  bishop  or 
to  a  presbyter  or  deacon,  in  order  that  his  purpose  might 
be  put  to  the  test.  From  these  he  received  some  brief 
and  condensed  instruction;  and  if  he  persisted  in  his 
desire,  he  was  received  into  the  number  of  the  catechu- 
mens by  a  simple  ceremony.  This  gave  him  the  right, 
and  also  the  duty,  of  attending  the  preaching  services. 


CHAi.  t.J     INSTRUCTION  OF  THE  CATECHUMENS.  889 

"  Go  to  the  temple  of  God,  forsake  the  idols,"  was  the 
command.  Hence  those  who  belonged  to  this  class 
were  called  audientes,  "the  hearers."  If  he  made  use 
of  his  opportunities  of  learning  the  truths  of  Christi- 
anity from  the  preaching,  he  was,  after  a  time,  admitted 
to  the  second  class  of  the  catechumens,  orantes,  "  the 
praying  ones,"  or  genuflectentes^  "  the  kneelers."  The 
distinguishing  mark  of  this  class  was,  that  they  took 
part  in  the  Church  prayers.  While  after  the  preaching 
the  audientes  were  dismissed  with  the  unbelievers,  the 
orantes  were  permitted  to  join  in  the  prayer  for  the 
strength  and  growth  of  the  Church,  which  was  offered 
to  God  every  Sunday.  Those  who  by  the  length  of 
their  probation,  and  in  other  respects,  seemed  fit,  were 
required  to  declare  expressly  once  more  their  desire  for 
baptism,  and  to  hand  in  their  names.  Thereby  they 
entered  the  last  stage  of  the  catechumenate,  and  wen 
called  competentes,  "  seekers,"  that  is,  real  candidates  foi 
baptism.  And  now  began  the  regular  course  of  in- 
struction to  the  catechumens,  which  was  given  during 
Lent,  since  Easter  Sunday  was  the  usual  day  for  bap- 
tism. They  were  now  initiated  into  the  real  mysteries 
of  the  Christian  faith,  particularly  into  the  mystery  of 
the  sacraments,  which  had  hitherto  been  carefully  hid- 
den from  them ;  and  at  the  close  they  were  taught  the 
confession  of  faith,  the  real  symbolum^  the  mark  of 
the  Christian,  and  with  it  the  Lord's  Prayer,  the  prayer 
of  the  children  of  God.  Finally  the  reading  of  Psalm 
xlii.,  "As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water-brooks,  so 
panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  O  God,"  introduced  the  rite 
of  baptism. 

Two    things  were    aimed    at  and  attained  by  the 
Chui'ch  through  this  long  probation:  on  the  one  side, 


390  THE  WORK  AMONG  THE  HEATHEN.       [book  m 

for  the  sake  of  the  Church,  the  most  thorough  test 
which  could  be  applied  to  those  who  sought  to  become 
members ;  and  on  the  other  side,  no  less  important,  an 
entire  freedom  of  choice  on  the  part  of  the  candidates. 
Those  who  came  were  to  come  voluntarily,  and  to  take 
the  step  with  a  full  consciousness  of  what  it  involved. 
No  persuasion  was  attempted,  nor  do  we  find  a  trace  of 
proselytizing,  and  all  the  arts  which  are  wont  to  be 
connected  with  it.  The  first  declaration  of  his  purpose, 
by  which  a  heathen  acquired  the  privilege  of  listening 
to  the  preaching,  was  only  preliminary.  It  was  open  to 
him  to  recede  from  his  position,  and  as  yet  there  were 
no  bonds  uniting  him  to  the  Church  from  which  he 
could  not  liberate  himself  at  any  moment.  Opportu- 
nity was  given  him  to  become  more  intimately  acquaint- 
ed with  the  Church,  its  belief,  and  its  life,  and  only 
then,  when  he  had  advanced  so  far  in  knowledge  as  to 
be  fully  conscious  of  what  he  was  doing,  was  he  allowed 
to  hand  in  his  name  and  thus  fix  his  choice.  But, 
although  the  candidate  was  thus  left  in  perfect  freedom, 
yet  he  remained  under  the  influence  of  the  prayers  and 
the  pastoral  care  of  the  Church,  which  in  that  day  were 
more  prominent  than  the  specific  instruction. 

The  Church  showed  a  wonderful  sagacity  in  this 
whole  matter.  Its  mission  to  instruct  the  heathen  was 
fulfilled  with  great  wisdom  and  prudence,  and  it  was 
owing  to  this  good  judgment  that  the  times  of  tran- 
quillity did  not  cause  more  injury  than  the  seasons  c  i 
persecution,  and  that  the  friendship  of  the  world  did 
not  prove  more  disastrous  than  its  enmity.  Though 
elements  of  impurity  could  not  be  wholly  prevented 
from  finding  their  way  into  the  Church,  which  thus,  the 
more  it  began  to  be  the  Church  of  the  people,  became 


CHAP.  I.]      APOLOGIES  OF  THE  THIRD  CENTURY.  391 

more  and  more  like  the  field  in  which  the  wheat  and  the 
tares  grow  together  promiscuously,  yet  this  much  waa 
attained,  that  the  accession  of  the  masses  did  not  de- 
prive the  Church  of  that  measure  of  purity  and  power, 
which  was  necessary  for  sustaining  the  severe  and  final 
conflict. 

Another  part  of  the  word  of  instruction  undertaken 
by  the  Church  is  to  be  found  in  the  Apologetic  literature 
of  the  time.  We  have  already  noticed  its  beginnings. 
A  richer  development  was  attained  amid  the  struggles 
of  the  third  century.  The  Church  was  now  the  object 
of  literary  attacks  on  the  part  of  rhetoricians  and 
philosophers,  and  therefore  was  compelled  to  defend 
itself  in  literature,  as  indeed  it  did.  Several  of  the 
greatest  Apologists  belong  to  this  period;  above  all, 
Origen  and  TertuUian.  With  quiet  superiority  and 
vast  learning  Origen  refutes  the  slanders  of  the  heathen, 
lays  open  the  emptiness  of  Heathenism,  and  yet  every- 
where seeks  to  gain  points  of  connection  with  Chris- 
tianity. With  incisive  keenness  and  biting  wit,  Ter- 
tuUian supports  the  cause  of  the  Christians,  often  in 
the  style  of  an  advocate,  not  shunning  even  sophistry, 
but  ever  burning  with  zeal  and  full  of  sturdy  convic- 
tion. And  though  he,  as  no  other,  has  laid  bare  the 
weakness  of  Heathenism,  and  held  it  up  to  mockery 
and  scorn,  yet  it  was  he  who  wrote  that  exquisite  little 
treatise  to  prove  "  The  Soul  by  Nature  Christian,"  ^  and 
showed  the  heathen  that  they  were  all  created  for  Chris- 
tianity, and  that  in  every  one  of  them  there  was  im- 
planted, even  if  unconsciously,  an  incl 'nation  towards 
Christ,  a  longing  for  Him. 

The  earlier  Apologists  had  asked  only  toleration, 
only  justice  for  Chiistians  as  well  an  other  men,  but 


892  THE  WORK  AMONG  THE  HEATHEN        [book    li 

the  Apologists  of  this  period  go  a  step  further:  they 
demand  freedom.  Religious  freedom,  that  mighty 
word,  was  now  first  openly  pronounced.  Strongly  does 
Origen  emphasize  the  fact  that  belief  is  a  matter  of 
entire  freedom.  "Jesus  Christ,"  he  says,  "did  Lot  wisli 
to  win  men  like  a  despot,  who  draws  them  into  the 
revolt  which  he  leads,  nor  like  a  robber,  who  puts  arms 
into  the  hands  of  his  comrades,  nor  like  a  rich  man, 
who  buys  adherents  by  his  liberality,  nor  by  any  blama- 
ble  means,  but  by  means  of  his  wisdom,  which  was  so 
fitted  to  unite  to  God  in  fear  and  holiness  those  who 
yield  themselves  to  his  laws."  ^  "  It  is  irreligious  to  use 
compulsion  in  religion,"  cries  Tertullian.  "  Man  has  a 
right,  and  it  belongs  to  the  natural  power  of  every 
individual,  to  worship  what  he  thinks  best;  and  one 
man's  religion  does  not  profit  or  injure  another." 
"  Allow  one,"  he  demands,  "  to  worship  God,  another 
Jupiter.  Let  one  raise  his  suppliant  hands  to  heaven, 
another  to  the  altar  of  Fides.  Let  one  in  his  prayer  (if 
ye  think  this  of  us)  tell  the  clouds,  another  the  orna- 
ments of  the  ceiling :  let  one  devote  his  own  life  to  his 
God,  another  that  of  a  goat.  For  beware  that  you  do  not 
give  a  further  ground  for  the  charge  of  irreligion,  by 
taking  away  religious  liberty  and  prohibiting  a  choice  of 
deity,  so  that  I  may  not  worship  whom  I  will,  but  am 
constrained  to  worship  whom  I  will  not.  No  one,  not 
even  a  mortal,  would  desire  to  be  worshipped  by  any 
against  their  will.  .  .  .  Every  province  also,  and  state, 
hath  its  own  god.  ...  But  we  alone  are  forbidden 
to  have  a  religion  of  our  own."  ^  "  Religious  liberty  I  " 
Tertullian  created  for  the  new  idea  this  new  name,  which 
here  for  the  first  time  appears.  In  later  days  the  Church 
itself  threw  away  this  jewel,  and  put  compulsijon  again 


CHAP,  i.l  RELIGIOUS  LIBERTY.  393 

into  freedom's  place ;  it  even  proceeded  so  far  as  to  van- 
quisli  heretics  by  shedding  their  blood ;  but  it  cannot 
be  denied  that  the  Church  has  the  honor  of  emphasizing, 
in  the  midst  of  a  heathen  world  which  had  no  knowl- 
edge of  true  religious  liberty,  the  fact  that  it  did  not 
intend  to  owe  its  victory  to  any  outward  means,  but 
simply  and  solely  to  the  might  of  truth.  To  win  this 
vdctory  the  Church  must  of  course  again  enter  the  fur- 
nace of  persecution.  Not  all  the  powers  of  Heathenism 
had  been  exhausted,  not  all  its  resources  expended.  An 
increasing  severity  of  persecution  was  still  possible, 
and  this  too  was  to  spend  itself  before  the  dawn  of 
victory. 

n.     THE   RESTORATION  OF  THE   EMPIRE. 

When  our  Lord  predicted  the  persecutions  to  his 
disciples,  he  represented  them  as  a  necessity.  "Ye 
shall  be  hated  of  all  men  for  my  sake,"  said  he  (Matt. 
X.  22),  and  in  John  xv.  19  he  disclosed  the  ultimate 
cause  of  that  hatred:  "If  ye  were  of  the  world,  the 
world  would  love  his  own ;  but  because  ye  are  not  of 
the  world,  but  I  have  chosen  you  out  of  the  world, 
therefore  the  world  hateth  you."  And  so  the  persecu- 
tion increased  by  an  inward  necessity  until  the  final 
outbreak  under  Diocletian  brought  its  culmination 
and  its  end.  This  gradual  growth  is  clearly  marked. 
Under  Nero  a  general  blind  hatred  raged  against  the 
Christians  without  even  knowing  them.  From  the 
time  of  Trajan  this  hatred  clothed  itself  in  a  legal 
form :  I^on  licet  vos  esse !  "  Ye  have  no  right  to  ex- 
ist ! ''  was  the  expression  of  it.  With  Decius  the  per- 
secution became  a  political  principle,  and  it  belonged 
to  the  policy  of  the  Emperors  who  purposed  the  re* 


394  RESTORATION  OF  THE  EJSIPIRE.  [book  m. 

vival  of  ancient  Rome,  to  destroy  the  Church.  But, 
while  there  the  political  motives  outweighed  the  re- 
ligious, with  Diocletian  the  latter  preponderated.  It 
was  the  heathen  priests  and  philosophers  who  urged 
him  to  a  persecution  which  as  a  statesman  he  would 
fain  have  avoided,  and  it  was  the  superstitious  nature 
of  the  Emperor  which  gave  the  party  of  persecution  a 
foothold.  Heathen  fanaticism  here  nakedly  and  openly 
appeared  as  the  antagonist  of  Christianity,  and  the 
word  of  Christ  in  characterizing  the  supreme  climax 
of  persecution:  "Whosoever  killeth  you  will  think 
that  he  doeth  God  service : "  was  now  fulfilled  among 
the  heathen,  as  it  had  been  formerly  among  the  Jews. 
Hence  this  persecution  was  the  most  cruel  of  all.  But 
in  it  Heathenism  spent  all  its  strength,  and  then  col- 
lapsed. It  had  no  further  powers  to  summon  against 
Christianity,  and  so  the  latter,  after  enduring  aU,  re- 
mained victor  on  the  field,  and  speedily  took  the  place 
of  Heathenism  as  the  religion  of  the  State. 

It  has  already  been  hinted  that  I  do  not  find  the  per- 
secution under  Diocletian  so  enigmatical  and  incompre- 
hensible as  some  seem  recently  to  have  found  it.  They 
have  even  thought  it  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  all 
kinds  of  suppositions  in  order  to  solve  this  so-called 
riddle.*  The  Christians  are  supposed  to  have  attempted 
revolt,  to  have  cherished  the  plan  of  capturing  the 
throne,  and  are  thus  themselves  made  to  bear  the  blame 
of  the  persecution.  Now  there  is  no  kind  of  support 
for  such  hypotheses  in  the  historical  sources,  and  also 
no  need  of  them.  It  is  only  necessary  to  follow  the 
development  of  history,  and  to  recall  the  situation  of 
Diocletian,  and  not  only  does  the  enigma  disappear,  but 
it  even  becomes  clear  that  the  policy  which  Diocletiau 


€HAF  I.]  DIOCLETIAN'S  GOVERNISIENT.  395 

pursued  would,  necessarily  and  against  his  own  will, 
lead  to  the  persecution  of  the  Christians. 

A  time  of  unspeakable  confusion  immediately  sue* 
ceeded  the  capture  of  Valerian  by  the  Persians.  The 
perpetually  changing  plurality  of  generals  (the  so-called 
Thirty  Tyrants)  did  not  permit  the  Empire  to  settle 
down  into  peace  and  harmony.  Time  proved  that  the 
attempt  to  revive  the  ancient  Roman  spirit,  and  to 
restore  the  Empire  on  the  old  basis  of  the  Roman  gov- 
ernment with  its  Senate,  consuls,  and  censors,  was  a 
failure.  The  aspiration  after  the  Roman  ideal,  which 
inspired  the,  in  some  respects,  able  Emperors,  showed 
itself  too  weak  for  the  difficult  task,  and  from  the  tima 
when  Diocletian,  by  the  choice  of  the  generals,  as- 
cended the  throne  in  A.  D.  284,  we  are  conscious  ol 
having  entered  quite  a  different  atmosphere. 

Diocletian's  predecessors  —  those  of  them  who  had 
sought  to  restore  the  Roman  Empire — had  turned  their 
gaze  back,  and  had  endeavored  to  assist  the  fallen 
Empire  by  means  of  the  Senate,  and  the  office  of  censor, 
by  the  revival  of  the  ancient  Roman  spirit.  Diocletian 
turned  his  thoughts  forward  to  something  wholly  new. 
Indeed  the  Empire,  still  called  Roman,  was  no  longer 
Roman,  and  it  was  more  than  mockery  when  Galerius 
asserted  in  his  blunt  way  that  the  Empire  ought  to  be 
called  no  longer  Roman,  but  Dacian.*  The  army  had 
ceased  to  be  Roman ;  it  was  a  motley  mixture  of  all 
nations  under  heaven.  Probus  had  in  one  day  received 
sixteen  thousand  Germans  into  the  Roman  army.* 
Goths  and  Persians  fought  under  the  Roman  eagles. 
Rome  itself  was  now  only  nominally  the  capital  and 
the  centre  of  government.  This  was  really  where  the 
Emperor  had  his  camp.     An  Emperor  now  rarely  lived 


396  RESTORATION  OF  THE  EMPIUE.  [book  m 

anj'  length  of  time  in  Rome.  Aurelian  was  an  excep- 
tion. And  he  could  not  feel  at  home  in  the  imperial 
palaces,  whose  walls  reeked  with  so  much  blood.  He 
occupied  a  simple  villa,  and  there  he  might  be  seen 
practising  gymnastics  and  exercising  his  horses  in  the 
court-yard.  This  was  still  in  the  ancient  Roman  style. 
With  Diocletian,  Rome  entirely  ceased  to  be  the  impe- 
rial residence.  The  Emperor  lived  in  the  East,  in 
Nicomedia,  where  he  had  a  magnificent  palace,  and  was 
surrounded  by  court  officials  of  many  different  grades. 
He  assumed  the  title  of  Dominus,  Lord,  which  no 
Emperor  hitherto  had  borne.  He  rarely  appeared  in 
public,  and  then  only  in  resplendent  Oriental  costume. 
A  painfully  complicated  court  etiquette  barred  access 
from  without.  It  was  difficult  to  approach  his  pres- 
ence, and  possible  only  amid  endless  formalities.  All 
this  was  not  personal  vanity ;  but  Diocletian  knew  the 
power  exercised  by  ceremony,  and  how  necessary  it  was 
to  surround  the  imperial  throne  with  this  dignity,  after 
its  authority  had  suffered  from  so  many  insurrections 
and  rebellions,  and  by  the  buying  and  selling  of  the 
crown.  But  this  was  of  course  no  longer  Roman,  but 
already  the  beginning  of  what  was  afterwards  called  the 
Byzantine  style. 

Diocletian  also  threw  aside  the  ancient  forms  of  gov- 
ernment, like  useless  ballast,  and  replaced  them  with 
new  ones  of  his  own  creation.  The  greatest  danger  to 
the  Empire  lay  in  the  fact  that,  in  the  absence  of  a 
ruling  dynasty,  ambitious  men  were  perpetually  aspiring 
to  the  crown,  and  one  usurper  deposed  another.  Dio- 
cletian understood  this,  but  also  realized  that  it  was 
not  possible  to  establish  a  dynasty.  He  therefore 
sought  other  means  of  meeting  this  danger.     He  asso- 


CHAP.  I  ]  DIOCLETIAN'S  ADMINISTRATION.  397 

dated  co-regents  witli  himself,  and  raised  this  arrange* 
ment  to  the  rank  of  a  settled  institution.  There  were 
now  to  be  always  two  Augusti  and  two  Ocesars  simul- 
taneously, who,  without  dividing  .he  Empire  itself, 
shared  the  labor  of  ruling  it,  while  one  of  the  Augusti 
had  the  superintendence  of  the  whole  as  supreme  Em- 
peror This  indeed  reduced  considerably  the  danger 
of  rebellion.  A  single  emperor  was  too  much  exposed. 
But  now,  if  a  rebellion  arose  against  one  of  the  princes, 
the  others  were  there  to  rescue  him,  and  even  a  usurper 
who  was  at  first  successful  stood  little  chance  of  attain- 
ing the  throne.  Another  still  more  important  advan- 
tage was,  that  this  arrangement  opened  to  ambition 
and  ability  the  possibility  of  reaching  the  throne  without 
usurpation.  For  the  choice  of  the  Ccesars  was  to  be 
made  only  with  reference  to  ability,  apart  from  all 
considerations  of  relationship,  and  those  chosen  were 
adopted  by  the  Emperors  into  an  artificial  filial  relation. 
Finally,  it  was,  as  it  appears,  from  the  beginning,  in- 
tended, that  the  reign  of  each  one  should  not  exceed 
a  fixed  time,  twenty  years.  At  the  expiration  of  this 
time  the  Emperors  were  to  retire  to  private  life,  and 
give  place  to  the  Ocesars,  to  whose  office  new  Ccesars 
were  then  to  be  elected.  Thereby  Diocletian  hoped  to 
secure  two  things :  first,  that,  as  the  situation  of  the 
Empire  really  demanded,  only  men  at  the  zenith  of  their 
powers  would  bear  rule ;  and,  second,  that  a  premature 
usurpation  of  the  throne  on  the  part  of  the  Caesars 
would  be  prevented,  since  they  knew  beforehand  that 
time  would  bring  them  to  the  imperial  office. 

This  organization  of  Diocletian  was  a  strange  con 
Btruction,  the  like  of  which  would  be  hard  to  find  any- 
where in  history,  —a  monarchy,  but  without  a  dynasty 


898  RESTOKATION  OF  THE  EMPIRE.  [book  ni 

its  place  being  supplied  by  choice  and  adoptior  ;  an 
absolute  and  unlimited  despotism,  not  for  life,  but 
restricted  to  a  definite  time;  four  rulers,  and  yet  no 
partition  of  the  Empire,  but  indeed  a  strict  guarantee 
^or  its  unity,  since  two  of  the  four  were  subordinate 
to  the  others,  as  one  of  these  was  to  his  fellow.  But 
every  thing  clearly  depended  on  the  preservation  of  this 
subordination  by  the  voluntary  obedience  of  the  Caesars 
to  the  Emperors,  and  of  all  to  the  supreme  Emperor. 
Without  this  subordination  and  obedience  the  unity 
of  Empire  aimed  at  must  fall  to  pieces.  By  what 
means,  then,  did  Diocletian  hope  to  attain  and  insure 
this  subordination,  and  with  it  harmony  among  the 
rulers?  This  question  leads  to  the  religious  aspect  of 
the  system,  and  thus  to  its  first  foundation. 

Diocletian  was  a  genuine  champion  of  restored  Hea» 
thenism.  His  whole  life  was  interwoven  with  credulity 
and  superstition.  Even  his  accession  to  the  throne  was 
connected  therewith.  A  Druid  priestess  had  predicted 
to  him,  years  before,  that  he  would  become  Emperor. 
Diocletian  was  the  son  of  a  Dalmatian  slave,  and 
served  in  the  army  from  the  ranks  upward.  At  tho 
time  when  he  was  a  subaltern  in  the  camp  at  Lutetia, 
a  Druid  priestess  mockingly  laughed  at  him  for  his 
stinginess.  "  I  will  be  more  liberal  when  I  am  Empe- 
ror," he  replied,  also  in  jest.  Then  the  woman  re- 
sponded, raising  her  voice  with  a  solemn  tone,  "  Jest 
not:  thou  shalt  be  Emperor  after  thou  hast  killed  the 
wild  boar."  ^  Many  years  went  by,  and  the  former  sub- 
altern, who  in  the  mean  time  had  been  passing  from  one 
military  rank  to  another,  had  killed  many  a  wild  boar 
in  hunting.  He  could  not  yet  have  met  with  the  right 
one,  but  the  prophecy  of  the  Druidess  wa^  never  for- 


CHAP.  I.]  DIOCLETIAN'S  SUPERSTITION.  399 

gotten.  After  the  death  of  the  Emperor  Numerianus, 
Aper,  the  Prefect  of  the  guard,  was  summoned  before 
a  court-martial  on  the  charge  of  having  killed  him. 
Diocletian  was  one  of  the  generals  who  assembled  to 
hold  the  trial ;  and,  directly  Aper  was  brought  before 
them,  Diocletian  rushed  at  him,  and  cut  him  down. 
He  had  found  the  right  wild  boar  (^A'per  means  wild 
bcar)^  and  he  was  chosen  Emperor  immediately  after- 
wards. Having  thus  come  to  the  throne,  Diocletian,  as 
Emperor,  was  perpetually  involved  in  heathen  supersti- 
tion. He  was  "ever  devoted  to  the  sacred  customs," 
"  a  seeker  after  the  things  of  the  future."  ^  He  sought 
omens  and  oracles  for  every  important  political  move. 
The  haruspices  had  the  freedom  of  the  palace;  every 
day  the  entrails  of  the  sacrifices  were  inspected ;  light- 
ning and  dreams  aroused  the  Emperor  to  the  greatest 
excitement.^  By  such  signs  he  chose  his  fellow-rulers, 
and  then  regarded  them  as  persons  designated  to  him 
by  the  gods.  He  strove  to  attach  them  to  himself  by 
religious  bonds  through  sacrifices  and  consecration. 
The  imperial  government  was  in  every  point  delibe 
rately  connected  with  the  gods  and  their  sway.  Diocle- 
tian regarded  himself  as  standing  specially  under  tha 
influence  of  divine  Providence.  He  gave  himself  the 
epithet  Jovius,  and  called  his  co-regent  Maximian, 
Herculius.  Jupiter  was  in  a  peculiar  sense  his  patron. 
By  Jupiter  he  believed  his  imperial  powor  was  be- 
stowed, and  to  the  hands  of  that  god  he  confided  it, 
when  he  abdicated  the  throne. ^^  In  his  palace  at 
Salona,  the  temple  of  Jupiter  towered  above  all  the 
rest,  and  his  imperial  mantle  was  the  mantle  of  Zeus 
himself."  The  Emperors  were  to  hold  the  position  of 
representatives  of  the  gods,  executing  their  will,  and 


400  RESTORATION  OF  THE  EMPIRE.  [book  in. 

also  to  be  regarded  as  armed  with  the  power  cf  the  gods 
and  supported  by  them.  Thus  Diocletian,  who  was  well 
aware  that  only  religion  can  control  the  conscience, 
hoped  to  establish  a  bond  of  conscience  between  rulers 
and  subjects,  to  create  an  obedience  to  authority  for 
conscience*  sake,  and  thus  gain  the  true  and  firm 
foundation  for  his  dominion. 

But  here  we  come  upon  the  weak  point  of  the 
system,  which  in  other  respects  was  undeniably  planned 
and  followed  out  with  great  political  wisdom.  A  dan- 
gerous contradiction  lurked  in  it.  On  the  one  hand 
Diocletian  had  thrown  aside  the  ancient  Roman  order 
of  things  as  mere  ballast,  on  the  other  he  strove  to 
retain  a  portion  of  that  ancient  order,  the  old  religion, 
and  even  to  make  it  the  foundation  of  the  whole  struc- 
ture. But  was  religion  at  all  exempt  from  the  general 
ruin  ?  was  it  the  only  healthy  part  of  the  life  of  that 
former  period,  while  all  else  was  sickly?  On  the 
contrary,  religion  too  was  in  a  dying  condition,  and 
that  condition  was  in  a  sense  the  ultimate  cause  o* 
the  ruin  of  the  whole.  Could  it  now  be  made  the 
foundation  of  the  new  structure  ?  It  is  true  the  priests 
and  the  Neoplatonist  philosophers  must  have  said  a 
great  deal  to  Diocletian  about  a  restoration  of  the 
ancient  religion;  but  the  error  of  this  statesman,  in 
other  respects  so  acute,  lay  in  his  mistaking  the  restored 
Heathenism  of  his  fanatical  priests  and  Neoplatonists 
for  a  religion  endowed  with  r  ew  life,  and  in  his  plan- 
ning to  make  it  the  foundation  of  his  new  structuie. 
For  indeed  it  was  only  a  spectre  restored  to  the 
appearance  of  life,  and,  being  itself  doomed  to  in- 
evitable death,  would  necessarily  carry  the  whole  skil- 
fully planned  system  of  the  Emperor  to   destruction 


CHAP.  I.]     di(k:!letian  forced  to  persecute.  40i 

with  it,  until  finally  Constantine  repaired  the  mistake, 
and  in  a  sense  brought  Diocletian's  work  to  perfection. 
He  abandoned  the  last  relic  of  the  ancient  Roman 
State,  which  Diocletian  had  preserved,  namely  its  reli- 
gion, and  gave  the  new  Empire,  which  began  politically 
with  Diocletian,  a  new  religious  foundation,  —  Chris- 
tianity. 

This  was  a  position  in  which  Diocletian  would  be 
driven  to  persecute  the  Christians,  whether  he  would 
or  not.  Was  it  possible  really  to  carry  out  his  plan 
so  long  as  Christianity  and  the  Church  existed  ?  This 
is  a  question  which  Diocletian  seems  not  to  have  con- 
sidered at  all  in  the  beginning,  but  which  was  not 
thereby  eliminated,  and  which  would  necessarily  come 
up  in  a  most  unavoidable  form,  when  the  realization  of 
the  Emperor's  schemes  bad  made  some  progress.  Their 
aim  was  to  insure  the  unity  of  the  Empire.  But  the 
Christians  were  an  element  which  it  was  utterly  impos- 
sible to  incorporate  into  this  Empire  as  Diocletian 
planned  it,  and  which  threatened  to  divide  its  unity 
like  a  wedge  perpetually  growing  larger  and  pene- 
trating deeper.  Restored  Heathenism  was  to  be  the 
cement  which  should  hold  the  Empire  together,  but 
this  restored  Heathenism  could  attain  no  strength  so 
long  as  Christianity  lived. 

It  is  narrated  ^^  that  one  day  a  solemn  sacrifice  was 
to  be  offered  in  the  Emperor's  presence,  in  order  to 
investigate  the  future  by  inspecting  the  entrails.  The 
officials  of  the  court  were  standing  round  about,  and 
among  them  some  Christians.  When  the  sacrifice  was 
offered,  these  last  crossed  themselves  as  they  were 
wont  to  do,  in  order  thereby  to  show  that  they  did  not 
take  part  in  the  worship  of  idols.     But  tc  the  terror  of 


402  RESTORATION  OF  THE  EMPIRE.  [boor  m 

Tagis,  the  chief  priest,  the  hoped-for  signs  did  not  show 
themselves  in  the  entrails  of  the  sacrifice.  He  ordered 
the  repetition  of  the  offering,  and  when  the  signs  again 
were  wanting,  he  cried :  "The  gods  refuse  to  appear  at 
our  sacrifice,  because  profane  men  are  present,  and 
hinder  the  revelation,  by  means  of  the  sign  which  the 
gods  hate."  This  is  said  to  have  determined  Diocletian 
to  persecute  the  Christians.  Whether  this  story  be 
true,  or  not,  in  any  case  it  shows  with  the  greatest 
accuracy  the  condition  of  affairs.  And  indeed  the 
tnith  was,  as  Tagis  stated ;  the  cross  lay  like  a  spell 
upon  Heathenism. 

It  is  true  that  the  Christians  were  still  greatly  in  the 
minority.  It  is  generally  assumed  that  they  formed 
about  one-twelfth  of  the  whole  population  in  the  East, 
and  in  the  West  about  one-fifteenth.  Even  this  is 
perhaps  too  high  an  estimate.  But  there  were  two 
things  which  gave  a  great  importance  to  this  minority. 
First,  that  no  single  reKgion  of  the  much  divided  Hea- 
thenism had  so  many  adherents  as  the  Christian.  Over 
against  the  scattered  forces  of  Heathenism,  the  Chris- 
tians formed  a  close  phalanx ;  the  Church  was  a  compact 
and  strongly  framed  organization.  Second,  the  Chris- 
tians were  massed  in  the  towns,  while  the  rural  popula- 
tion was  almost  exclusively  devoted  to  Heathenism. 
There  existed  in  Antioch,  for  instance,  a  Christian 
church  of  fifty  thousand  souls.  Finally,  the  fact  of 
cliief  importance  was  that  they  were  already  spiritual- 
ly the  predominant  power.  They  possessed  the  word  of 
the  living  God,  the  forces  of  a  new  life ;  and  although 
the  rapid  growth  of  the  churches  had  permitted  some 
elements  of  impurity  to  force  their  way  in,  yet  how 
great  was  the  contrast  between  these   churches   with 


CHAP.  I.]  INFLUENCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  40S 

their  assurance  of  faith,  their  ardor  of  love,  their  graces 
of  Christian  virtue,  their  strict  and  earnest  morality, 
and  the  heathen  world  in  its  darkness,  superstition,  and 
hopeless  ruin!  It  was  impossible  for  the  heathen  to 
ignore  the  impression  conveyed  by  the  testimony  thus 
given.  The  certainty  of  belief  in  their  own  gods  had 
received  a  mortal  blow  from  the  proclamation  of  the 
true  God,  and  a  renewal  of  the  strength  of  Heathenism 
was  not  possible  so  long  as  this  spell  of  Christianity 
still  rested  upon  it. 

Diocletian  does  not  seem  to  have  comprehended  this 
clearly,  at  least  in  the  beginning.  He  tolerated  the 
Christians,  not  only  in  the  army  and  in  the  administra- 
tion, but  was  himself  surrounded  by  Christians  who 
filled  high  positions  at  the  court..  To  them,  as  those 
whom  he  had  found  the  most  faithful,  he  specially  con- 
fided his  personal  safety.^^  And  the  new  faith  had 
penetrated  his  own  household,  even  his  own  family. 
His  wife  Prisca,  and  his  daughter  Valeria,  the  unfortu- 
nate wife  of  Galerius,  stood  at  least  in  an  intimate 
relation  to  the  Church.^*  But  there  was  at  the  court  a 
party  which  saw  the  truth  clearly  enough,  and  worked 
with  entire  consistency  for  their  object,  the  annihilation 
of  Christianity.  This  party  was  chiefly  composed  of 
the  heathen  priests,  who  frequented  the  imperial  palace. 
They  fought  for  their  influential  position.  If  Diocle- 
tian's system  of  government  could  be  permanently 
established,  their  supremacy  also  was  assured;  for,  if 
the  decision  for  every  imperial  act  was  determined 
according  to  omens  and  oracles,  then  the  power  lay  in 
truth  in  the  hands  of  those  who  interpreted  the  omens, 
and  imparted  the  oracles.  Besides  the  priests,  there 
were   distinguished   statesmen,   men   of    learninsr,  and 


404  RESTORATION  OF  THE   EMPIRE.  [book  m 

philosophers  belonging  to  this  party.  Neoplatonism 
was  at  this  time  the  prevalent  philosophy ;  and  while 
with  Plotinus  the  antagonism  to  Christianity  was  foi 
the  most  part  unexpressed,  yet  in  his  successors  an 
irreconcilable  hostility  plainly  appears.  They  would 
allow  the  Christians  to  worship  the  supreme  God,  but 
only  on  the  condition  that  they  also  worshipped  the 
subordinate  gods.  It  could  be  only  stubbornness  and 
self-will  which  hindered  their  doing  so,  and  this  obsti- 
nacy must  be  broken  down.  It  was  pretended  that  this 
would  be  really  doing  nothing  but  bringing  Christianity 
back  to  its  original  purity.  For  the  Christianity  of 
Christ,  the  Neoplatonists  asserted,  was  quite  a  differeut 
thing  from  that  of  the  time  then  present.  Christ  did 
not  give  himself  out  for  a  God,  but  appeared  only  in 
the  character  of  a  wise  teacher,  and  without  showing 
any  opposition  to  the  religions  of  the  nations.  It  was 
the  apostles,  who  first  made  him  a  God.  If  the  religions 
of  the  heathen  nations  were  reformed  according  to  Neo- 
platonic  ideas,  and  Christianity  brought  back  to  its 
original  state,  then  there  would  really  exist  no  more 
antagonism  between  the  two.  In  harmonious  unity  all 
the  nations  of  the  Empire  would  worship  the  one 
supreme  God,  and  subordinate  to  him  the  national 
gods.  The  unity  of  belief,  so  necessary  for  the  unity 
of  the  State,  was  easily  to  be  established  in  this  way. 
It  was  only  necessary  to  take  the  heads  of  the  Church 
seriously  in  hand :  the  multitude,  which  was  only  led 
astray,  would  yield,  and  the  majority  of  them  would 
pass  over  peacefully  into  the  Neoplatonic  State-Church. 
Hierocles,  Prefect  of  Bithynia,  was  conspicuous  in  ad- 
vocating thes3  views  at  the  imperial  court ;  and  he  also 
upheld  them  in  literature  by  writing  a  "Truth -loving 


UHAP.  I.]  GALERIUS  AND  HIS  PARTY.  405 

Discourse "  to  the  Christians,  which  sought  to  win 
them,  apparently  in  the  interest  of  peace,  but  bloody 
persecution  loomed  up  in  the  background.^^  If  they 
did  not  hearken  to  such  words  of  peace,  then  there 
would  be  the  better  ground  for  denouncing  them  to  the 
Emperor  as  stubborn  disturbers  of  the  peace. 

This  party,  which  had  long  been  secretly  at  work, 
found  a  head  in  the  Ccesar  Galerius.  This  man  had 
risen  from  a  shepherd's  crook  to  a  sceptre  by  his  mili- 
tar}^  talents;  but  his  was  an  uncultivated  nature, 
brought  up  in  the  blindness  of  heathen  superstition, 
and  he  lacked  the  keen  political  insight  for  which 
Diocletian  was  distinguished.  That  which  cannot  be 
said  of  Diocletian  may  be  predicated  of  Galerius  in  the 
highest  degree,  — he  was  a  fanatic  for  Heathenism. 

The  party  at  first  strove  in  vain  to  move  the  Em- 
peror to  another  persecution  of  the  Christians ;  Diocle- 
tian was  too  well  aware  of  the  power  of  the  Christians, 
he  saw  too  clearly  the  danger  of  such  a  step  to  the 
system  he  had  created.  To  those  who  urged  forcible 
measures,  he  recalled  the  fact  that  already  a  number 
of  unsuccessful  attempts  had  been  made  to  crush  the 
Church,  and  thus  so  much  blood  had  been  uselessl} 
shed.  Now  too,  nothing  would  be  accomplished  except 
to  set  the  Empire  in  confusion  and  uproar.^®  Yet  Gale- 
rius succeeded  in  carrying  through  the  purification  of 
the  army  as  a  preliminary  measure.  In  A.  D.  295  the 
ordsr  was  given  that  all  the  soldiers  should  take  part  in 
the  sacrifices.  Many  preferred  to  part  with  their  mill- 
tary  rank;  men  left  the  higher  as  well  as  the  lower 
grades  of  the  service,  in  order  to  remain  faithful  to 
their  faith.  Even  in  this  case,  there  were  some  condem- 
nations and  executions.     In  Tangiers,  Marcellus,  a  cen 


406  RESTORATION  OF  THE  EMPIRE.  [book:  in 

turion,  was  condemned  to  death,  because,  when  the 
order  was  issued  to  sacrifice,  he  threw  down  his  belt 
and  staff,  the  insignia  of  his  military  rank,  and  ex- 
claimed :  "  From  this  moment  I  cease  to  serve  your 
generals.  I  scorn  to  worship  your  gods  of  wood  and 
stone,  which  are  only  dumb  idols.  If  military  service 
brings  with  it  the  obligation  to  sacrifice  to  the  gods  and 
to  the  Emperor,  I  throw  down  my  belt  and  staff,  I 
desert  the  standards,  and  cease  to  be  a  soldier."  " 

For  a  long  time  Diocletian  would  not  be  persuaded 
to  take  any  further  steps.  But  the  heathen  party  urged 
him  unceasingly,  and  the  consistency  of  the  system  was 
on  their  side.  It  is  certain  that  Diocletian  would  never 
have  become  a  persecutor  of  the  Christians  of  his  own 
motion,  and  without  being  incited  to  it  by  Galerius ;  but 
Galerius  would  never  have  succeeded  in  bringing  him 
to  that  point,  if  the  political  system  and  the  religious 
views  of  Diocletian  had  not  supplied  arguments  for  his 
purpose.^®  The  Emperor  was  already  growing  old: 
should  his  life-work  remain  unfinished  ?  Yet  unfinished 
it  must  remain,  so  long  as  the  power  of  Christianity 
remained  unbroken.  The  time  approached  at  which 
Diocletian  had  determined  to  abdicate :  would  not  that 
moment  prove  perilous  to  the  whole  system  which  he 
had  created,  if  it  were  not  firmly  settled  on  the  religious 
foundation,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  was  s(5  important? 
And  who  was  to  succeed  him  ?  This  very  Csesar,  Gale- 
rius, the  fanatical  foe  of  the  Christians,  would  then  be 
raised  to  the  rank  of  Augustus,  and  he  was  destined  to 
be  the  supreme  Emperor.  Galerius  also  did  not  urge 
on  the  persecution  simply  from  personal  hatred.  He 
intended  to  establish  and  inaugurate  his  imperial  rule 
with  the   great  achievement,   the   destruction   of   the 


CHAP.  I.]  SECRET  COUNCIL  AT  NICOMEDIA.  40T 

Christian  Church.     Then  he  would  be  the  restorer  of 
the  Empire,  and  his  power  would  stand  securely. 

in.     THE   PERSECUTION   UNDER   DIOCLETIAN. 

Galerius  spent  the  winter  of  A.  D.  302-3  in  Nicome- 
dia.  Diocletian  was  becoming  sickly,  his  powers  were 
failing.  There  was  noticeable  in  him  a  certain  lack  of 
decision,  which  had  never  before  been  one  of  his  char- 
acteristics. Now  or  never  was  the  moment  for  the 
heathen  party  to  carry  through  their  plans.  Without 
any  stir,  in  secret  assemblies  whose  object  no  one  sus- 
pected, they  worked  on  the  Emperor.  He  yielded  so 
far  as  to  permit  the  matter  to  be  submitted  to  a  council 
of  the  higher  officers  and  members  of  the  administra- 
tion. By  this  move  the  heathen  party  had  the  game  in 
their  own  hands.  In  the  council  next  to  Galerius 
(whose  mother,  Romula,  a  fanatical  heathen,  stood  be- 
hind him  to  incite  and  urge  him  on),  sat  Hierocles  the 
governor  of  Bithynia,  the  chief  of  the  Neoplatonists,  a 
religious  zealot,  who  believed  that  he  would  do  his  god 
service,  if  he  brought  those  stubborn  disturbers  of  the 
peace,  the  Christians,  to  reason  by  force. ^^  Diocletian 
became  more  and  more  wavering  and  undecided.  He 
could  not  hold  his  own  against  the  headlong  fanaticism 
of  Galerius,  allied  with  the  dexterous  skill  of  Hierocles. 
He  decided  lo  seek  advice  from  the  gods,  instead  of 
men.  There  could  be  no  doubt,  what  counsel  they 
would  impart.  An  oracle  of  the  Milesian  Apollo  gave 
the  decisive  word.  The  Emperor  determined  to  follow 
it ;  but  he  insisted  on  one  condition,  no  blood  must  be 
shed.^^  Of  course  the  heathen  party  were  not  disturbed 
by  this  condition.  It  would  be  entirely  unnecessary^ 
they  said,  to   shed  blood.     As  soon  as  the  Chris  tiauii 


408  PERSECUTION  UNDER  DIOCLETIAN.       [book  m. 

weie  seriously  taken  in  hand,  the  Church,  which  owed 
its  growth  only  to  laxity,  would  cease  to  exist.  The 
Christians  would  not  be  willing  to  become  martyrs, 
but  would  come  over  in  a  body.  The  heathen  were 
well  aware  of  what  they  were  doing.  If  they  could 
only  bring  the  Emperor  to  make  a  beginning,  he  would 
have  to  continue,  whether  he  would  or  not ;  and  they 
would  not  need  to  urge  him,  since  the  obstinacy  of  the 
Christians  would  do  that  for  them.  Thus  the  ominous 
decision  was  made.  At  one  of  the  principal  festivals  of 
the  heathen,  the  Terminalia,  which  was  celebrated  on 
the  23d  of  February,  the  floodgates  of  the  last  and 
most  terrible  persecution  were  to  be  opened. 

Early  in  the  morning,  when  it  was  only  half  light, 
the  Prefect  of  the  guard,  with  a  detachment  of  soldiers, 
marched  up  to  the  large  and  beautiful  church  in  the 
city  of  the  imperial  residence.  The  doors  were  beaten 
in,  all  the  sacred  books  discovered  were  burned,  the 
church  gutted  and  razed  to  the  ground.  On  the  city 
walls  an  imperial  edict  might  be  read :  that  all  Chris- 
tian churches  were  to  be  torn  down,  and  all  sacred  books 
burned.  The  Christians  were  entirely  prohibited  from 
coming  together;  if  they  did  not  abjure  Christianity, 
the  men  of  rank  among  them  were  to  be  degraded  and 
deprived  of  all  rights  (infames)^  all  others  were  to  be 
reduced  to  slavery .^^  The  purpose  of  tLIs  edict  was 
plainly  to  cut  off  Christianity  from  the  sources  of  its 
life.  For  this  reason  provision  was  made  for  preventr 
ing  worship  b}^  destroying  the  churches  and  depriving 
the  Christians  of  the  Scriptures.  Thus  they  hoped  to 
crush  the  Church  without  shedding  blood ;  for  the 
Emperor  did  not  wish  any  blood  shed.  Yet  it  was 
soon  to  come  to  that.     A  Christian  of  high  rank  ven- 


/ 


CH^.  I.]  BLOODSHED   ^.\IEVITABLE.  409 

fcured,  not  with  a  pure  zeal,  i^  must  be  confessed,  to 
tear  down  the  edict  with  the  scornful  remark  that  it 
seemed  to  proclaim  some  more  of  the  Emperor's  victo- 
ries over  the  Sarmatians.  He  was  cruelly  tortured  and 
executed.^2  The  heathen  party  made  a  most  skilful  use 
of  circumstances,  if  we  are  not  to  attribute  much 
gravel  blame  to  them.  In  the  eastern  provinces  there 
broke  out  several  insurrections  insignificant  in  them- 
selves ;  but  they  were  expanded  into  dangerous  rebel- 
lions, and  the  Emperor,  ab.eady  full  of  anxiety,  was 
made  to  believe  that  the  Orieat  was  in  flames,  and  that 
the  Christians  had  stirred  up  tha  disturbances.  On  two 
t^casions  near  together,  fires  bt^-^ke  out  in  the  imperial 
palace  at  Nicomedia.  It  is  impossible  to  say  who  set 
them.  The  Christians  said  Galeri  \^>  had  them  kindled 
in  order  to  ascribe  the  guilt  to  the  Christians.  At  all 
events,  this  last  came  about.  The  Emr^oror  was  urged 
on  by  such  means.  The  Empire  was  represented  ai 
endangered;  terrible  pictures  were  pain^eil  of  a  con 
spiracy  among  the  Christians,  which  was  c\id  to  hav( 
accomplices  in  his  own  palace,  and  to  be  alrerd)  threat 
ening  his  life.  The  Emperor's  anger  flamed  "»\p.  He 
ordered  his  whole  household  to  present  themsblves 
before  him,  and  to  clear  themselves  from  the  susp^^iion 
resting  upon  them  by  participation  in  a  sacrifice.  Fik 
wife  and  daughter,  who,  though  they  may  perhaps  nof 
have  formally  gone  ov^^r  to  Christianity,  yet  in  heart 
favored  it,  gave  way  jind  sacrificed.  The  Chris tiau 
officials  of  the  court  refused.  Then  torture  was  used. 
Peter,  an  official  of  high  rank,  was  beaten,  his  stripes 
rubbed  with  vinegar  and  salt,  and  then  his  limbs  burned 
one  after  the  other.  Nevertheless  he  joyfully  con- 
fessed his  faith.  Finally,  all  who  would  not  sacrifice 
were  strangled. 


410  PERSECUTION  UNDER  DIOCLETIAN.       [book  ri 

In  the  provinces  also  the  edict  was  carried  out  with 
greater  or  less  severity,  according  to  the  disposition  of 
the  governors.  The  churches  were  torn  down,  the 
sacred  books,  when  not  voluntarily  given  up  (as,  alas ! 
happened  often  enough),  were  seized  by  force,  and 
publicly  burned,  the  worship  of  the  Christians  was 
hindered,  and  they  were  reduced  to  slavery,  and  em- 
ployed in  public  works.  In  some  places  they  already 
went  so  far  as  to  torture  and  execute  the  Christians. 
Though  the  edict  contained  no  such  orders,  yet  it  com- 
manded the  surrender  of  the  sacred  books,  and  the 
abandonment  of  worship.  Christians  who  refused  to 
give  up  the  books,  or  held  their  services  in  spite  of  the 
law,  were  punished  according  to  the  will  of  the  respect* 
ive  governors.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  Abitina,  a  town 
in  Proconsular  Africa,  forty-nine  Christians  who  had 
assembled  to  read  the  Scriptures  and  for  the  commim- 
ion,  were  taken  prisoners,  and,  when  they  would  not 
renounce  their  faith,  were  executed.  Among  them  was 
a  boy  named  Hilarianus.  The  Proconsul  thought  he 
should  frighten  him  easily.  "  I  will  cut  off  all  thy  long 
hair,"  he  said  to  him,  "  and  thy  nose  and  ears."  But 
the  boy  replied :  "  Do  what  thou  wilt,  I  am  a  Christian." 
And  when  he  too  received  the  sentence,  his  answer 
was,  "Thank  God  I  "23 

Meanwhile  the  Emperor  had  issued  a  second  edict,^ 
which  commanded  that  all  the  clergy  should  be  impris- 
oned; and,  after  a  few  months,  a  ihird,^^  in  which  it 
was  ordered  that  all  who  denied  by  sacrificing  should  be 
jet  free,  but  the  others  compelled  by  torture.  Many 
yielded,  but  many  remained  steadfast.  For  years  they 
endured  the  imprisonment  and  the  tortures  applied  from 
time  to  time,  without  wavering ;  and  in  the  time  aftei 


CUAP   1.]  THE  FOURTH  EDIOT.  411 

the  persecution,  many  a  servant  of  the  Church  bore 
visible  marks  of  the  torments  then  suffered^ 

But  it  was  impossible  to  stop  even  with  this.  The 
heathen  people  themselves  urged  the  matter  on.  In 
the  circus  in  Rome  the  Emperor  was  greeted  with  the 
shout,  "  Away  with  the  Christians !  O  Augustus  I  No 
more  Christians !  "  So  the  fourth  edict  appeared,  ex- 
tending to  all  Christians.  All  without  distinction  were 
to  be  forced  to  sacrifice  to  the  idols.^^ 
—  Then  began  a  persecution  which  surpassed  even  that 
under  Decius  in  extent  and  cruelty.  Everywhere  the 
Christians  were  summoned  on  an  appointed  day.  The 
towns  were  surrounded  with  guards  in  order  that  no 
one  might  escape.  Then  those  who  had  been  sum- 
moned were  called  by  name,  and  ordered  to  sacrifice. 
Those  who  refused  went  straight  to  prison,  and  the 
attempt  was  made  to  induce  them  to  recant  by  means 
of  the  most  refined  tortures.  The  wishes  of  those  who 
showed  signs  of  yielding  were  met  in  every  possible 
way ;  every  device  by  which  they  might  try  to  conceal 
the  fact  of  denial  from  themselves  or  others  was  readily 
accepted,  so  long  as  they  only  denied.  A  grain  of  salt, 
a  pinch  of  incense  was  sufficient,  if  they  only  partici- 
pated in  the  sacrifice.  Of  those  who  remained  steadfast, 
some  died  under  the  tortures,  others  were  executed. 
Blood  flowed  in  streams  throughout  the  Empire.    • 

How  large  a  share  in  this  fourth  edict  Diocletian  had, 
is  not  clear.  It  was,  it  is  true,  issued  in  his  name,  but 
when  it  went  forth  he  was  lying  sick.  He  had  become 
a  broken  man  generally,  in  body  and  soul.  What  had 
come  of  his  schemes?  An  Empire  in  which  peace 
and  unity  prevailed  was  what  he  had  striven  for,  and 
it  at  one  time  appeared  as  if  he  had  succeeded  in  real  • 


412  PERSECUTION  UNDER  DIOCLETIAN.       [book  m 

izing  this  aim.  When,  shortly  before  the  ominous  win- 
ter of  A.  D.  302-3,  he  celebrated  his  triumph,  the  whole 
Empire  was  at  peace,  as  it  had  not  been  for  decades. 
And  now  this  single  step,  to  which  he  had  allowed 
himself  to  be  persuaded,  yet  which  was  well-nigh  in- 
evitable, since  it  was  the  consequence  of  his  mistaken 
system,  must  destroy  the  whole  I  The  union  among  the 
rulers  was  broken.  In  Gaul  the  Ccesar  Constantius 
Chlorus  had  already  begun  to  act  independently.  It 
is  true,  that,  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  he  had  caused 
some  churches  to  be  destroyed,  but  in  other  respects 
he  left  the  Christians  undisturbed.  The  peace  of  the 
Empire  had  fled,  for  fire  and  sword  were  busier  than  in 
the  civil  war ;  the  Emperor  himself  was  at  war  with  a 
large  part  of  his  people.  And  what  was  gained  by  the 
persecution  ?  His  heathen  counsellors  must  have  tried 
to  convince  him  that  Christianity  was  now  annihilated. 
Diocletian  cannot  have  made  himself  believe  this.^  The 
fearful  massacre  which  he  had  instigated  had  broken 
down,  not  the  strength  of  the  Christians,  but  the 
Emperor  himself.  Sick  in  body  and  in  soul,  living  in 
anxiety,  terrified  by  evil  omens,  trembling  at  every 
flash  of  lightning,  he  hid  himself  in  the  privacy  of  his 
palace.  His  day  was  over.  It  weighed  heavily  upon  his 
heart  at  this  time,  when  his  whole  life-work  was  in 
danger,  to  have  to  confide  the  government  to  other 
hands,  and  such  hands!  We  can  understand  that  at 
the  last  moment  he  still  hesitated.  But  the  same  Gale- 
rius  who  had  urged  him  to  persecutf3,  now  urged  his 
abdication ;  and  Diocletian  could  not  resist  the  second 
demand,  because  he  had  not  resisted  the  first.  On  the 
1st  of  May,  A.  D.  305,  in  Nicomedia,  in  the  presence 
of  the  army,  and  beiore  an  image  of  Jupiter,  he  con- 


CHAP.  I.]     COLLAPSE  OF  DIOCLETLAJs 'S  SCHEMES.  418 

aummated  his  abdication,  and  departed  to  Salona,  where 
he  had  built  himself  a  palace  in  the  hope  of  there  passing 
his  last  years  in  peace.  This  hope  was  not  to  be  ful- 
filled. That  which  he  already  feared,  he  was  destined 
to  see,  —  the  complete  collapse  of  the  system  of  govern- 
ment created  by  himself. 

With  Diocletian,  his  Co-Emperor  Maximian  resigned 
iJie  imperial  dignity;  and  though  Constantius  Chlorus 
could  not  be  passed  by,  but  must  be  allowed  to  move 
up  from  the  rank  of  Ccesar  to  that  of  Augustus^  yet 
Galerius  not  only  received  the  supreme  power,  but  in 
nominating  the  Ocesars  he  passed  over  both  Constantine 
the  son  of  Constantius  Chlorus,  and  Maxentius  the  son 
of  Maximian,  and  chose  instead  two  men  who  decidedly 
shared  his  hatred  of  the  Christians,  Severus  and  Maxi- 
minus  Daza.  Then  Constantine  fled  from  Nicomedia, 
where  he  no  longer  believed  himself  safe,  to  his  father ; 
and  when  the  latter  died,  not^v^long  after,  the  army 
elected  the  son  by  acclamation  to  succeed  him.  Gale- 
rius, seeing  that  Constantine,  who  was  supported  hy 
the  army  and  greatly  beloved  in  his  father's  realm,  could 
not  be  got  rid  of,  yielded  so  far  as  to  recognize  him  as 
second  Ccesar,  at  the  same  time  raising  Severus  to  the 
rank  of  Augustus,  and  Maximinus  Daza  to  that  of  first 
Ccesar.  Thus  the  system  of  Diocletian  received  another 
dangerous  shock.  It  rested  upon  tho  idea  of  adoption, 
but  the  adoption  was  here  broken  through  in  one  in- 
stance by  inheritance.  The  consequences  of  this  soon 
showed  themselves.  When  Maxentius  the  son  of  Max- 
imian, who  had  been  passed  over  at  the  same  time  with 
Constantine,  heard  that  the  latter  had  attained  the 
rank  of  Ccesar  on  the  ground  of  inheritance,  he  did  not 
delay  bringing  forward  his  own  similar  claim,  but  made 


414  PERSECUTION  UNDER  DIOCLETIAN.       [book  m. 

himself  Ccesar^  and  was  immediately  recognized  as  such 
in  Italy,  where  the  arbitrary  government  of  Severus 
had  become  odious.  And  then,  to  bring  the  conf'^sion 
to  a  climax,  Maximian  revoked  his  unwilling  abdication, 
and  re-assumed  the  imperial  purple.  Diocletian  must 
have  been  most  deeply  pained  to  see  the  system  he  had 
constructed  with  so  much  toil  falling  apart  and  crum- 
bling piece  by  piece.  In  vain  did  he  once  more  appear 
upon  the  scene,  and  attempt  to  restore  the  shattered 
union;  but  the  conviction  was  soon  forced  upon  him 
that  all  was  lost;  he  even  found  his  own  life  threat- 
ened ;  and,  anticipating  what  he  feared,  he  took  poison, 
and  himself  brought  his  life  to  an  end. 

But  let  us  return  to  Galerius.  He  had  chosen  his 
Caesars  so  that  they  would  be  supporters  and  auxiliaries 
tQ  him  in  his  principal  task,  the  annihilation  of  Chris- 
tianity. Maximinus  Daza  indeed  was  a  thoroughly 
superstitious,  fanatical  heathen,  full  of  rough  strength, 
but  utterly  without  education.  So  the  persecution, 
which  had  somewhat  slackened  so  long  as  Constantius 
wielded  an  influence  as  Augustus^  flamed  up  again  with 
redoubled  violence.  It  is  true,  the  western  part  of  the 
Empire  enjoyed  perfect  tranquillity.  Constantius  Chlo- 
rus,  when  he  became  Augustus^  no  longer  needed  even 
to  destroy  churches  for  the  sake  of  appearances;  and 
after  Severus  had  attacked  the  Christians  in  Italy  with 
such  fury  that  the  heathen  themselves  became  indig- 
nant, leaving  the  Christians  in  peace  was  one  of  the 
measures  by  which  Maxentius  won  the  people  over  to 
himself.  In  the  East,  on  the  contrary,  the  persecution 
endured  for  six  years  more,  and  for  the  first  time 
assumed  a  character  truly  fanatical.  Murder  was  per- 
petrated by  wholesale.     There  were  instances  in  which 


CHAP.  I.]         FRIGHTFUL  TORI  ORES  INFLICTED.  416 

ten,  twenty,  even  a  hundred,  were  put  to  death  m  a 
single  day.  Occasionally  they  went  to  work  in  a 
summary  manner,  and  burnt  the  whole  local  church 
with  their  place  of  meeting.  In  Phrygia  a  whole  town 
was  surrounded  with  soldiers,  and,  like  a  town  in  an 
enemy's  country,  was  burned  with  its  inhabitants,  who 
were  all  Christians.^  Still  more  characteristic  of  the 
heathen  fanaticism,  which  now  reached  its  culmination, 
was  the  refinement  of  cruelty  with  which  murder  was 
carried  on.  Galerius  issued  an  edict  in  which  he 
ordered  that  the  Christians  should  be  put  to  death 
with  slow  fire.  At  first  a  little  flame  was  placed 
under  the  feet  of  the  victim  till  the  flesh  gradually 
calcining  fell  from  the  bones,  then  the  other  parts  of 
the  body  were  burned  one  after  another  with  torches. 
At  intervals  cold  water  was  dashed  into  the  faces  of 
the  tortured,  in  order  that  death  might  not  come  too 
soon.  Only  at  'the  end  was  the  whole  body  burned 
on  the  pyre,  and  the  ashes  cast  into  the  sea  or  into  a 
river,  in  order  to  prevent  the  veneration  even  of  the 
martyrs'  ashes.^  When  the  Emperor's  express  orders 
were  of  such  a  nature,  we  need  not  wonder  that  the 
governors  also  vied  with  one  another  in  the  invention 
of  novel  torments.  They  hung  up  the  Christians  by 
the  feet,  and  kindled  fires  beneath  them,  they  cut  off 
their  noses  and  ears,  tore  out  their  tongues,  thrust  out 
their  eyes,  and  maimed  their  hands  and  feet  by  cutting 
through  the  sinews.  For  a  time  it  would  seem  that 
mutilation  was  systema'-'cally  practised,  and  was  re- 
garded as  a  mitigation  of  punishment  compared  with 
death.3^  They  poured  melted  lead  over  the  Christians, 
and  cut  them  in  pieces.  The  corpses  of  those  who  had 
been  executed  were  not  allowed  to  be  buried,  they 


il6  PERSECUTION  UNDER  DIOCLETIAN.       [book  m. 

were  left  lying  till  the  dogs  and  the  vultures  consumed 
them.^^  This  was  also  the  time  when  Koman  governors 
condemned  Christian  maidens,  still  wearing  the  fillet, 
the  sign  of  their  unsullied  honor,  to  be  flogged  with 
rods,  half-naked,  up  and  down  the  streets;  when  it 
happened  not  infrequently  that  matrons  and  maidens 
of  noble  rank  were  sentenced  to  be  taken  to  the 
brothel,  and  exposed  to  the  lust  of  the  heathen.  It  was 
precisely  the  philosophically  cultured  officials,  the  Neo- 
platonists  proud  of  their  wisdom  and  virtue,  who  thus 
made  themselves  sadly  conspicuous.  More  than  once 
matrons  and  maidens  preferred  death  to  dishonor,  and 
took  their  own  lives  in  order  to  escape  a  worse  fate. 
Their  contemporaries  counted  such  too  into  the  numbei 
of  the  martyrs  who  died  for  their  faith;  but  a  later, 
colder  age  cast  doubts  upon  their  claim  to  be  considered 
martyrs.^ 

Yet  the  persecution,  in  the  six  years  during  which 
it  still  went  on,  did  not  continue  with  steady  pressure, 
but  after  a  fierce  outburst  it  slackened  a  little  while, 
and  then  broke  out  more  violently  than  before.  The 
patience  of  the  Christians  wearied  the  heathen;  but 
when  in  the  times  of  tranquillity  the  Christians  re- 
assembled, and  the  heathen  were  forced  to  see  that  all 
their  rage  had  failed  to  annihilate  Christianity  and  the 
Church,  then  their  wrath  flamed  up  anew,  and  the 
persecution  began  once  more,  frequently  more  terriblj? 
than  before,  till  weariness  again  followed  the  second 
outbreak.  About  the  sixth  year  of  the  persecution, 
in  A.  D.  308,  peace  seemed  to  settle  down  everywhere. 
The  prisoners  in  the  mines,  of  whom  there  was  a  large 
number,  were  treated  more  leniently.  The  Christians 
were  already  breathing  more  freely,  and  ga-^^e  way  te 


CHAP.  L]  RENEW Ali  OP  THE  PERSECUTION.  417 

the  hope  that  the  storm  was  over.  Then  it  broke  out 
again  with  greater  violence  than  before.  An  imperial 
edict  appeared,  addressed  to  all  the  military  and  civi] 
authorities,  ordering  them  to  resume  the  persecution 
with  all  the  powers  at  their  command.  The  ruined 
temples  were  to  be  rebuilt ;  all,  men,  women,  freemen, 
slaves,  and  even  the  youngest  children,  were  to  be 
compelled  to  sacrifice,  and  to  partake  of  the  meat  oi 
the  offering.  The  bloodshed  began  again,  and  thej> 
now  went  so  far  as  to  sprinkle  all  the  provisions  in  tho 
markets  with  sacrificial  wine,  or  with  the  water  used 
in  the  offerings  to  idols,  in  order  by  this  means  to  bring 
the  Christians,  who  would  not  sacrifice  of  their  own 
accord,  into  contact  with  the  offerings  to  idols,  against 
their  will.  And  after  this  storm  had  subsided,  a  short 
outbreak  of  rage  came  in  the  year  A.  D.  310,  occasioned 
by  the  circumstance  that  the  prisoners  in  the  mines  had 
assembled  for  worship.  But  this  very  speedily  passed 
over. 

The  fire  of  persecution  burned  itself  out.  The  brute 
force  and  the  raging  fanaticism  which  characterized 
these  last  outbursts  could  accomplish  nothing  againcjt 
the  silent  endurance  of  the  Christians.  Heathenism 
had  exhausted  all  its  powers.  Even  the  executioners 
were  wearied.  The  heathen  themselves  began  to  de- 
nounce the  useless  effusion  of  blood,  and  to  take  the 
part  of  the  persecuted  Christians.  Galerius  lay  on  his 
deathbed;  a  dreadful  disease,  the  consequence  of  his 
debaucheries,  had  attacked  him;  he  suffered  the  great- 
est agony  while  corruption  spread  in  his  living  body. 
From  his  deathbed  he  issued,  in  A.  D.  311,  the  remarka- 
ble edict  which  entirely  put  an  end  to  the  persecution.^ 
In  it  the  Emperor,  with  his  colleagues,  proclaimed  that 


418  PEESECUTION  UNDER  DIOCLETIAN.       [book  m. 

it  had  been  his  purpose  to  bring  every  thing  back  to 
the  ancient  laws  and  political  system  of  the  Romans, 
and  therefore  to  take  care  that  the  Christians  who  had 
forsaken  the  religion  of  their  forefathers  should  return 
to  a  proper  attitude  of  mind.  But  since  the  majority 
of  them  had  obstinately  adhered  to  their  purpose,  and 
he  had  seen  that  they  neither  paid  due  honor  to  the 
heathen  gods,  nor  even  worshipped  the  God  of  the 
Christians,  therefore  of  his  favor  he  would  grant  that 
they  might  again  be  Christians,  and  hold  their  assem- 
blies once  more,  on  condition  that  they  did  not  violate 
the  existing  order  of  affairs.  It  would  be  well  that 
they  should  pray  to  their  God  in  behalf  of  the  welfare 
of  the  Emperor  and  of  the  State,  in  order  that  the 
State  might  remain  uninjured  in  all  respects,  and  that 
they  themselves  might  live  in  security. 

This  edict  contains  a  plain  confession  of  the  impo- 
tence of  Heathenism.  It  does  not  speak  of  recognizing 
or  favoring  Christianity.  The  Emperor  still  regards  it 
only  as  a  defection  from  the  ancestral  religion :  he  doe« 
not  conceal  his  desire  that  the  Christians  would  return 
to  it.  But  he  renounces  the  attempt  to  accomplish 
this  desire  by  force,  because  he  has  come  to  see  that 
it  is  impracticable,  and  that  which  he  can  no  longer 
refuse  to  Christianity,  he  allows  to  appear  as  a  gif!i  o£ 
his  favor,  in  order  to  cover  up  his  impotence  to  son:  a 
extent.  Did  the  pangs  of  conscience  have  a  voic'3  in 
this  edict?  Did  the  streams  of  blood  which  he  had 
shed  leave  to  him,  as  to  Diocletian,  no  peace  upon  hi? 
bed  of  pain  ?  The  wish  'so  earnestly  expressed  at  the 
close  of  the  edict,  that  the  Christians  would  pray  for 
him,  perhaps  discloses  some  such  feeling.  The  schemes 
of  Galerius,  like  those  of  Diocletian,  now  lay  in  ruins. 


CHAi'.  I.]  THE  EDICT  OF  TOLERATION.  419 

On  him,  too,  crime  revenged  itself.  He  died  soon  after 
in  unspeakable  torments. 

The  real  conflict  thus  came  to  an  end.  It  is  true, 
Maximinus  did  not  recognize  the  edict,  or  at  least 
executed  it  in  a  very  ambiguous  manner.  Soon  after 
its  promulgation,  he  began  again  to  limit  the  freedom 
of  the  Christians,  and  to  forbid  their  assemblies  in  the 
cemeteries.  He  also  strove  to  strengthen  Heathenism 
by  various  measures,  and  even  commenced  persecution 
once  more.^*  But  these  were  only  the  last  convulsive 
movements  of  expiring  Heathenism.  It  had  really 
given  up  the  contest. 

But,  of  course,  that  which  Christianity  had  won  was 
ht  first  only  an  unwilling  toleration.  It  had  need  of 
more  than  that  to  fulfil  its  mission  in  the  world:  it 
needed  recognition.  It  was  necessary  that  it  should 
come  into  connection  with  the  State,  that,  though  in  a 
different  manner,  it  should  occupy  the  place  of  Hea- 
thenism, and  form,  as  Heathenism  had  hitherto  done, 
the  basis  of  the  life  of  the  people.  All  this  was  still 
Jacking.  The  edict  of  Galerius  was  not  the  complete 
victory.  But  the  complete  victory  was  close  at  hand. 
The  man  had  come  upon  the  scene,  to  whom  the  his- 
torical  task  fell,  to  close  the  period  of  conflict,  and,  by 
cementing  the  relations  which  were  to  bind  State  and 
Church  together  for  the  future,  to  bring  a  new  era  to 
the  nations,  —  Constantine  the  Great. 


CHAPTER    U. 

THE   VIOTOBY. 

"  By  this  sign  conquer," 

Raeely  is  a  man  so  difPerently  judged  as  Constai> 
tine  the  Great.  Opinion  still  is  unsettled  about  him. 
Our  own  day  generally  regards  him  with  little  favor. 
Indeed,  many  forces  are  at  work  to-day  in  destr  y- 
ing  what  he  achieved.  Many  even  regard  it  as  a 
chief  duty  of  the  present  age  to  undo  the  deed  oi 
Constantine,  the  connection  of  Church  and  State. 
But  not  only  to  those  whose  object,  whether  they 
avow  it  or  not,  is  the  removal  of  Christianity  from 
the  State  and  from  the  national  life,  even  to  sooae 
who  estimate  Christianity  at  its  true  value,  his  action 
appears  dubious,  at  least  of  doubtful  worth,  and  this 
judgment  is  easily  transferred  from  the  deed  to  the 
doer. 

In  order  to  judge  Constantine  fairly,  two  prejudices 

Vust  be  guarded  against.     First,  the  idea  that  a  man  to 

whom  Christianity  owes  such  an  entire  change  of  posi 

tion  in  the  world  must  necessarily  have  been  himself  a 

peculiarly  pure,  spiritual,  and  active  Christian.     With 

420 


CHAP,  n.]  CONSTANTINE'S  CHARACTER.  421 

this  idea,  we  may  feel  repelled  by  not  finding  what  we 
anticipated,  and  so  fail  to  see  what  Constantine  really 
was.  Of  course  the  inner  development  of  the  Church, 
an  advance  in  its  spiritual  life,  requires  for  its  promoters 
men  who  have  experienced  this  advance  in  their  own 
souls.  But  where  a  change  in  the  external  situation  of 
the  Church  is  concerned,  —  and  such  was  the  nature  of 
the  revolution  which  we  are  now  to  consider,  —  it  may 
laturally  be  brought  about  by  a  person  who  for  his  own 
}.art  has  little  or  no  share  in  Christianity.  Many  ren- 
der services  to  Christianity  and  to  the  Church,  whose 
hearts  are  not  Christian ;  but  it  may  often  be  observed 
that  these  services  bring  to  such  men  the  blessing  of 
gradually  drawing  them  near  to.  the  Church  in  heart, 
though  at  first  only  outwardly  active  in  its  behalf. 
Such  a  man,  in  my  opinion,  was  Constantine.  When 
he  took  the  first  steps  toward  making  Christianity  the 
predominant  religion,  his  relation  to  it  was  little  more 
than  outward,  more  like  superstition  than  faith.  But 
he  afterwards  came  nearer  and  nearer  to  Christianity, 
and  it  cannot  be  ignored  that  later  he  recognized  and 
embraced  its  truth  in  his  soul. 

Second,  it  is  not  just  to  ascribe  to  direct  hypocrisy 
every  case  where  the  conduct  does  not  square  with  the 
profession.  That  is  a  false  alternative,  which  is  often 
put  as  decisive  in  judging  Constantine  :  either  a  Chris- 
tian through  and  through,  or  not  a  Christian  at  all,  and 
therefore  a  liar  and  a  hypocrite:  either  Constantine 
a,cted  from  purely  Christian  or  from  purely  political 
motives,  and  in  the  latter  case  his  Christianity  was  only 
a  mask.  Constantine  was  no  saint,  and  it  is  not  my 
{ urpose  to  make  him  out  a  saint ;  but  those  who  jump  to 
she  conclusion  that  he  must  have  been  a  hypocrite  do 


422  THE  VICTORY.  [book  in 

not  realize  how  many  things  may  exist  together  in  the 
heart  of  a  man.  Even  the  blood-gniltiness  with  which 
he  burdened  his  soul,  and  which  I  have  no  disposition 
to  excuse  or  extenuate,  does  not  prove  that  what  wears 
the  aspect  of  Christian  piety  in  his  life  was  pure  hypoc- 
risy. A  service  of  very  questionable  value  is  done  to 
Constantine  by  those  who,  by  way  of  compensation,  exalt 
the  statesman  as  much  as  they  depreciate  the  Christian 
in  him.  For  political  wisdom  whose  ultimate  root  is  hy- 
pocrisy can  hardly  lay  claim  to  be  called  genuine  politi- 
cal wisdom  at  all.  The  very  fact  that  Constantine  un- 
doubtedly achieved  a  great  and  lasting  success,  should 
be  a  warning  against  regarding  him  as  a  mere  hypocrite. 
For  where  was  ever  in  the  world  a  great  achievement 
made  without  inward  participation  in  it  ?  Those  who 
deny  this  to  Constantine,  who  view  him  as  a  cold  and 
calculating  politician,  without  any  heart  in  the  work  he 
did,  without  any  inward  longing  for  the  Christianity 
which  he  made  the  basis  of  his  political  career,  funda- 
mentally fail  in  comprehending  both  the  man  and  his 
work. 

The  time  immediately  after  the  death  of  Galerius  was 
cne  of  those  moments  of  great  suspense  which  occasion- 
:illy  come  in  history.  Every  thing  was  prepared  for  a 
j^reat  revolution ;  the  actors  who  were  destined  to  take 
part  in  it  had  already  come  upon  the  stage,  but  no  one 
could  forecast  the  way  in  which  the  drama  would  un- 
fold. Every  one  was  conscious  that  things  could  not 
remain  as  they  were;  but  it  was  just  this  conscious- 
ness which  restrained  all  concerned  from  taking  the 
first  step.  Thus  there  came  a  moment  of  tranquillity ; 
but  it  was  the  calm  before  the  storm.  It  could  not 
last  long ;  and  when  once  it  was  broken,  the  revolution 


SHAF.  n.J  UNSETTLED  STATE  OF  AFFAIBS.  423 

everywhere  prepared  was  accomplished  witii  startling 
rapidity* 

In  the  East,  Maximinus  Daza  and  Licinius  (who  had 
succeeded  to  the  position  of  Galerius),  after  arraying 
themselves  against  each  other,  made  peace  again,  and 
divided  the  Orient  between  them.  The  West  was 
ruled  by  Constantine  and  Maxentius.  Thus  the  situa- 
tion had  become  similar  to  that  which  Diocletian  had 
in  view.  And  yet  how  great  was  the  difference  from 
the  time  before  the  persecution.  There  was  no  thought 
of  an  undivided  dominion  such  as  Diocletian  had 
planned,  nor  even  of  harmony  among  the  four  rulers. 
Each  governed  independently  of  the  others  in  his  own 
territory,  and  silently  prepared  for  the  war  which  must 
come.  No  one  of  them  trusted  another,  and  each  was 
conscious  that  he  must  either  conquer  the  rest,  or  fall. 
In  truth  war  was  inevitable ;  an  Empire  with  four  in- 
dependent rulers  was  an  impossibility.  Nor  was  it  the 
question  of  supremacy  alone  which  brought  on  the 
war;  a  deeper  cause  was  the  still  undecided  question 
of  the  State's  attitude  towards  Christianity.  In  this 
direction,  also,  the  position  of  affairs  was  untenable. 
The  State  now  tolerated  Christianity,  but  only  because 
it  could  not  do  otherwise.  The  Church  was  no  longer 
persecuted,  but  efforts  were  made  to  hinder  its  growth 
hy  oppressive  limitations.  •  The  State  had  defined  its 
attitude  in  the  edict  of  toleration  of  A.  D.  811,  and  in 
the  directions  for  carrying  it  out,  which  were  sent  to 
the  governors ;  but  both  Maximinus  Daza  and  Maxen- 
tius at  least  did  their  best  to  make  the  execution  of  the 
edict  bring  as  little  as  possible  of  good  to  the  Christians. 
That  such  limitations  couid  not  long  continue  was  to 
be  foreseen,  for  the  Church  had  already  become  t;:K: 


424  THE  VICTOET.  [book  m 

powerful,  and  even  the  mere  unwilling  tolerance  con« 
ceded  to  it  was  sufficient  to  bring  in  numbers  of  the 
heathen.  Everywhere  multitudes  were  coming  forward 
to  join  the  Christians.  And  what  a  contradiction  lay 
in  this  toleration.  If  Heathenism  was  still  the  religion 
of  the  State,  even  toleration  was  too  much.  How 
could  the  State  harbor  two  such  antagonistic  religions 
for  any  length  of  time,  without  being  itself  split  in 
tT?fo  ?  For  a  moment  the  scale  might  remain  in  equi- 
librium, but  it  must  shortly  turn  in  favor  of  one  side 
or  the  other.  The  two  questions  of  supremacy  and 
religion  thus  naturally  combined.  The  struggle  for 
supremacy,  as  indeed  it  had  originated  in  the  persecu- 
tion under  Diocletian,  assumed  more  and  more  the 
character  of  a  conflict  between  Christianity  and  Hea- 
thenism, and  the  triumph  of  Constantine  over  his  rivals 
resulted  also  in  the  victory  of  Christianity  over  Hea- 
thenism. 

The  very  first  act  of  the  great  war,  the  conflict  be 
tween  Constantine  and  Maxentius,  was  decisive.  Max- 
entius,  who  ruled  Italy  and  Africa,  was  a  profligate  and 
a  tyrant.  He  assumed  an  increasingly  hostile  attitude 
towards  Constantine.  His  command  that  all  statues  of 
Constantine  in  Italy  were  to  be  thrown  down,  showed 
what  was  to  be  looked  for  from  that  quarter.  There- 
fore Constantine  determined  to  be  beforehand  with 
him.  Before  his  antagonist  had  seriously  thought  of 
war,  he  crossed  the  Alps  with  his  army,  and  descended 
on  Northern  Italy.  Constantine's  attack  was  exceed- 
ingly venturesome.  His  army  nimibered  about  forty 
thousand  men,  while  that  of  Maxentius  was  at  least 
three  times  that  number,  and  included  the  Praetorian 
Guard,  the  flower  of  the  Roman  army,  and  eighteen 


CJM^.  a.]  CONSTANTINE  AND  THE  CROSS.  425 

thousand  horse,  of  special  importance  in  the  plains  of 
Northern  Italy.  Besides,  the  fortresses  round  about 
greatly  strengthened  the  position  of  Maxentiuh,  and 
the  great  resources  of  Italy  and  Africa  were  at  his 
disposal.  Indeed,  some  in  Constantino's  army  denounced 
tiie  undertaking  as  rash.  Constantino  himself  was  well 
aware  what  risks  he  was  running,  what  a  venture  it 
was  to  start  on  this  campaign  with  an  army  compara- 
tively small,  and  that  (a  weighty  consideration)  against 
Rome  itself.  For  Rome  was  still,  at  least  in  name,  the 
centre  of  the  Empire ;  a  nimbus  of  sacredness  still 
encircled  the  city  which  ruled  the  world,  and  it  was  no 
light  thing  to  lead  Roman  troops  to  battle  against  the 
very  Rome  in  whose  name  they  took  the  field,  and 
whose  symbol  they  bore  upon  their  standards.  We 
can  understand  that  Constantino  in  such  a  situation 
sought  other,  higher  help.  According  to  his  own 
account,  at  that  time  he  long  considered  to  which  god 
he  should  turn  for  help,  and  prayed  to  the  supreme 
God,  whom  his  father  had  worshipped  as  god  of  the 
sun,  to  reveal  to  him  who  he  was^  Then  there  appeared 
to  him  one  day  a  wondrous  sign.  When  the  sun  was 
declining  in  the  west,  he  saw  a  bright  cross  upon  the 
aun,  and  over  it  the  inscription  in  letters  of  light: 
TOTTQ  NIKA  (in  this,  hy  this  sign,  conquer).  He  was 
disturbed  by  the  vision,  and  not  clear  what  its  meaning 
might  be ;  but  in  the  night  Christ  appeared  to  him,  and 
commanded  him  to  make  this  cross  his  banner,  and 
then  to  go  into  battle  with  the  cer'cainty  of  victory. 
In  fulfilment  of  this  direction,  Constantino  had  a  banner 
(the  Labarum)  prepared,  bearing  the  cross  and  the 
monogram  of  Christ.  He  himself  set  a  cross  on  his 
►  helmet,  and  his  «Joldiers  painted  it  upon  their  shields. 


426  THE  VICTOE^.  [book  in. 

Then  Le  led  his  army  from  victory  to  victory,  under 
the  banner  of  the  cross,  until,  in  the  bloody  battle  at 
the  Milvian  Bridge,  the  power  of  Maxentius  was  en- 
tirely broken.  Constantine  entered  Rome  in  triumph; 
and  soon  the  whole  West  acknowledged  his  sway.  I^ 
token  of  his  gratitude  for  this  result,  the  Emperor  had 
a  statue  of  himself  set  up  in  Rome,  carrying  a  cross  in 
his  hand,  and  bearing  the  inscription:  "By  this  salu- 
tary sign,  the  true  proof  of  valor,  I  have  freed  your 
city,  and  saved  it  from  the  yoke  of  the  tyrant."  ^ 

I  can  not  and  will  not  pass  over  the  question  of  the 
estimate  to  be  put  upon  this  narrative.  Let  us  examine 
it  without  prejudice,  particularly  without  the  preju- 
dice (for  it  is  nothing  more)  that  there  are  no  such 
things  as  miracles,  and  that  therefore  the  story,  however 
strongly  supported,  cannot  be  true.  Beyond  the  limits 
of  the  New  Testament,  we  must  certainly  be  very  cau- 
tious in  accepting  miracles  which  are  narrated,  but  we 
must  not,  we  can  not,  deny  the  possibility  that  the  Lord 
may  at  peculiarly  critical  moments  in  the  history  of  his 
Church  interpose  by  spiracles.  The  story  is  given  in 
the  greatest  detail  by  Eusebius,  who  claims  to  have  re- 
ceived it  from  the  Emperor's  own  lips.^  Constantine  in 
his  old  age  had  narrated  it  to  the  historian,  and  con- 
firmed it  with  an  oath.  The  story  cannot  therefore  be 
wholly  rejected  as  pure  fiction,  unless  one  is  willing  to 
consider  either  Eusebius  or  Constantine  guilty  of  delib- 
erate falsehood.  It  is  true  that  Eusebius  is  no  impar- 
tial historian,  at  least  in  his  life  of  Constantine,  yet  a 
partisan  coloring  or  conception  of  the  facts  is  a  long 
way  from  the  fabrication  of  events  which  never  hap- 
pened. Eusebius  too  would  hardlj  have  ventured  to 
invent  such  a  story  about  the  Emperor.    If  there  be 


tSHAP,  n.]       SUDDEN  CHANGE  IN  CONSTANTINB.  427 

any  falsehood  in  it,  Constantine  unquestionably  is  tli<j 
guilty  party.  Now  I  hold  Constantine  to  be  capable  of 
a  falsehood,  even  his  oath  I  should  not  consider  binding 
without  other  reasons,  since  he  did  not  respect  it  him- 
self, where  political  advantage  was  concerned;  but  1 
cannot  comprehend  the  motives  for  such  a  strange  false- 
hood  as  this,  nor  what  could  induce  him  to  invent  such 
a  story  in  his  old  age,  and  to  tell  it  to  Eusebius  in  a 
moment  of  confidence.  There  might  have  been  some 
advantage  in  having  the  story  circulated  earlier,  but 
then  when  ne  told  it,  all  those  things  were  long  gone 
by;  they  belonged  to  history,  and  had  no  longer  any 
value  for  the  present. 

And  it  is  impossible  on  other  grounds  to  relegate  the 
whole  story  to  the  realm  of  fiction.  It  is  a  fact  that  in 
Constantine's  attitude  to  Christianity  a  complete  change 
took  place  between  A.  D.  311  and  313,  and  that  sud- 
denly. At  the  beginning  of  A.  D.  312  he  seemed,  to 
say  the  least,  cool  and  non-committal.  He  had  issued 
the  edict  of  Galerius,  and  the  orders  concerning  its 
execution,  which  as  we  have  seen  were  but  little  favor- 
able to  Christianity.  He  was,  no  doubt,  even  then  a 
monotheist ;  but  the  one  God  whom  he  worshipped  was 
rather  the  Sun-god,  the  "  Unconquered  Sun,"  than  the 
Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  But  at  the  begin- 
ning of  A.  D.  313,  he  issued  the  edict  of  Milan,  which  ♦ 
was  extraordinarily  favorable  to  the  Christians,  and  took 
the  first  decisive  steps  towards  raising  Christianity  to 
the  position  of  the  dominant  religion. 

These  innovations  are  commonly  attributed  by  recent 
writers  to  purely  political  considerations.  It  is  said 
that  the  Emperor,  convinced  of  the  impotence  of 
Heathenism  and  of  the  power  of  Christianity,  conceit  ed 


428  THE  VICTORY.  [book  nt 

the  great  political  purpose  of  gaining  Christianity  over 
to  his  side  and  thus  making  its  strength  serviceable  to 
him.  He  recognized  with  statesman-like  keenness  to 
which  religion  the  future  belonged,  and  that  the  State 
could  be  built  up  anew  only  on  the  basis  of  Christian- 
ity, strong  in  the  strength  of  its  youth.  In  my  view 
this  explanation  does  not  correspond  to  the  situation  of 
affairs  at  the  time,  nor  does  it  find  any  support  in  those 
facts  which  are  indubitably  certain  in  Constantine's 
own  testimony.^  Constantine  did  not  need  to  gain  over 
the  Christians :  they  had  been  on  his  side  from  the  time 
of  his  father,  so  far  as  the  Christians  can  be  said  to 
have  taken  sides  at  all  in  these  conflicts.  His  own 
army  was  mainly  composed  of  barbarians,  and  among 
these  the  Christians  were  certainly  not  in  the  majority. 
Indeed,  in  all  the  West  they  were  only  a  small  minority 
as  yet,  and  in  Rome  Heathenism  still  greatly  preponder- 
ated, so  that  in  that  city  favor  to  the  Christians  was 
the  last  thing  to  win  popularity  for  him  who  showed  it. 
Purely  political  considerations  would  necessarily  have 
rather  counselled  against  the  step  he  took,  for,  while  he 
gained  nothing  by  it  which  he  did  not  already  possess, 
he  was  likely  to  render  the  heathen  hostile  to  him. 
The  edict  of  Milan,  without  doubt  the  best  original 
document  on  the  subject,  indicates  motives  quite  otliei 
#  than  those  which  modern  historians  have  attributed  to 
the  Emperor  from  their  own  circle  of  ideas.  In  the 
edict  Constantine  himself  gives  as  the  motive  of  the 
favor  he  was  showing  to  the  Christians,  the  benefits 
which  he  had  received  from  the  Supreme  God  and  the 
wish  that  these  divine  benefits  might  remain  hence- 
forth assured  to  him.*  Constantine  therefore  believed 
that  he  owed  the  brilliant  victory  which  he  had  gained 


JJHAP.  n.]  CONSTANTINE'S  MOTIVBS.  429 

over  a  force  much  stronger  than  his  own,  to  a  special 
interposition  of  the  Supreme  God  on  his  side;  and 
wherever  we  look,  among  Chri<jtians  or  heathen,  we 
come  upon  just  this  view,  everywhere  the  unexpected 
victory  is  attributed  to  the  special  protection  of  the 
Supreme  God.  More  than  this,  the  special  protection 
was  distinctly  connected  with  the  banner  of  the  cross. 
With  all  the  labor  that  has  been  spent  on  the  task,  it 
has  proved  impossible  to  make  away  with  the  fact  that 
first  in  the  war  with  Maxentius,  and  after  that  more 
and  more  prominently,  the  cross  was  the  banner  under 
which  Constantino  fought  and  conquered.  At  this  date 
the  heathen  emblems  disappeared  from  the  imperial 
standard,  and  were  supplanted  by  the  cross  and  the 
monogram  of  Christ.  On  the  helmets,  on  the  shields, 
on  the  very  coins,  we  find  from  that  date,  in  hundreds 
of  examples,  the  cross  and  the  two  sacred  letters  X  P., 
the  Greek  initials  of  the  name  Christ,  And  if  we  could 
still  cherish  any  doubts  as  to  the  significance  of  this, 
the  equally  undoubted  fact,  above  mentioned,  that 
Constantino  allowed  himself  to  be  represented  in  a 
statue,  holding  the  cross,  and  expressly  declared  it  to 
be  the  banner  imder  which  he  had  conquered,  should 
banish  all  doubt.*    "yrrm 

So  much,  then,  is  certam,  Constantino  himself  believed 
that  he  owed  his  victory  to  the  cross.  But  this  fact 
would  be  wholly  isolated,  if  we  were  to  obliterate  that 
story  of  the  vision  as  a  pure  fabrication.  The  question 
then  would  be.  What  brought  about  this  sudden  change 
in  the  views  of  the  Emperor?  Something  must  have 
happened  which  induced  Constantino  to  make  the  cross 
his  standard.  It  may  be  conceded  that  Eusebius  ha? 
somewhat,  perliaps  greatly,  embellished  the  story,  or- 


430  THE  VICTORY.  [book  ni 

with  still  greater  probability,  that  (as  often  happens 
with  just  such  stories  as  have  afterwards  come  to  a 
significance  and  fulfillment  beyond  all  anticipation),  it 
was  painted  in  vivid  colors  by  the  recollections  of  the 
Emperor ;  but  that  it  was  a  simple  fabrication  is  impos- 
sible in  view  of  the  facts.  Further,  we  have  no  right 
to  twist  it  round  after  the  rationalistic  method,  —  to 
assume,  for  example,  that  Constantino  saw  only  a  chance 
shaping  of  the  clouds  in  the  figure  of  a  cross,  and  held 
it  to  be  a  sign,  because  it  responded  to  the  state  of  his 
emotions ;  for  thus  we  place  at  the  foundation  of  what 
the  original  documents  relate  an  element  foreign  to 
them  of  our  own  devising,  and  which  finds  no  support 
whatever  in  those  documents.  And  then  the  whole 
course  of  events  in  one  of  the  greatest  crises  of  history 
would  rest  upon  a  chance,  and  on  a  superstitious  illu- 
sion on  the  part  of  Constantino.  This  I  at  least  cannot 
accept.  To  me  the  history  of  Christ's  Church  is  some- 
thing other  than  an  aggregation  of  chances  and  human 
illusions.  I  hold  firmly  that  the  exalted  Saviour,  as  He 
promised,  rules  and  guides  His  Church.  And  in  this  de- 
cisive moment  He  interposed.  It  pleased  Him  to  con- 
descend to  Constantino,  and  to  answer  his  questions,  as 
God  condescended  to  the  wise  me^  from  the  East,  and, 
by  means  of  their  astrological  superstitions,  led  them 
to  Bethlehem  with  a  star.  Constantino  hitherto  had 
reverenced  the  Sun  as  the  supreme  God,  and  the  cross 
placed  upon  the  Sun  was  to  show  him  that  the  God 
who  has  revealed  himself  in  the  crucified  One  is  the 
supreme  God ;  and  when  Constantino  did  not  immedi- 
ately understand,  it  was  explained  more  particularly 
to  him  in  a  dream.  From  henceforth  this  was  the 
banner  under  which  he  and  his  army  fought,  and  the 


n.J   SUPERNATURAL  VISION  OF  THE  CROSS.  431 

victories  which  he  gained  confirmed  him  in  the  belief 
that  the  god  who  gave  him  this  sign  was  the  supreme 
God.  But  I  do  not  at  all  suppose  that  Constantine  was 
completely  converted  by  this  vision,  and  forthwith  be- 
came a  faithful  Christian  in  the  full  meaning  of  the 
words.  The  sign  of  the  cross  was  to  him  at  first  rather 
an  object  of  superstitious  reverence  than  a  symbol  of 
salvation.  Not  until  later  did  it  become  more  to  him. 
For  the  present  he  only  thought  of  winning  the  favor 
of  the  supreme  God  by  taking  the  part  of  Christianity, 
though  in  his  own  heart  he  had  not  yet  completely 
broken  with  Heathenism,  and  his  personal  convictions 
contained  a  medley  of  heathen  and  Christian  elements. 
Not  until  the  conflict  assumed  .mT5rfe  and  more  the 
character  of  a  struggle  between  Heathenism  and  Chris- 
tianity, was  Constantine  compelled  to  take  the  Christian 
side ;  and  only  when  the  war  was  ended  by  the  victory 
over  Licinius,  did  the  Emperor  personally  confess  him- 
self unreservedly  a  Christian.® 

The  revolution  now  went  on  with  surprising  rapidity. 
On  Oct.  27,  A.  D.  312,  Maxentius  and  his  army  had 
been  cut  to  pieces  at  the  Milvian  Bridge.  His  Praeto- 
rian guard  had  fought  with  the  valor  of  veterans;  no 
one  of  them  had  yielded  a  foot ;  they  lay  in  ranks,  as 
they  had  stood,  on  the  field  of  battle.  The  rest  of  the 
army,  and  the  tyrant,  had  been  ingulfed  by  the  waters 
of  the  Tiber.  Rome,  Italy,  the  Islands  and  Africa 
immediately  fell  to  the  victor.  Constantine  held  this 
to  be  a  gift  from  the  Christians'  God,  and  hastened  to 
render  his  thanks  for  it.  In  the  early  part  of  A.  D.  313 
he  met  Licinius  in  Milan,  and  thence  issued  the  edict 
of  toleration.''  Directly  afterwards  the  war  which  had 
been  threatening   betwe€n    Licinius    and    Maximinus 


432  THE  VICTORY.  [book  m. 

broke  out.  In  this  case,  too,  the  victory  of  Licinius, 
who  was  then  friendly  to  the  Christians,  over  their 
persecutor  Maximinus,  was  a  wonderfully  rapid  one. 
On  June  13  the  edict  of  Milan  was  published  in  Nico- 
media,  the  city  from  which  ten  years  before  the  perse- 
cution had  gone  out.  This  edict  was  now  in  force 
throughout  the  Empire. 

In  this  edict,  which  marks  the  beginning  of  a  new 
era,  full  religious  freedom  was  given.  Every  one  in  the 
Empire  was  henceforth  to  have  entire  liberty  to  embrace 
whatever  religion  he  thought  the  best.  The  great 
principle  was  thus  for  the  first  time  promulgated,  that 
religion  is  the  most  personal  affair  of  every  man,  and 
about  it  no  other  man  has  a  right  to  legislate ;  that  it  is 
not  the  office  of  the  powers  that  be  to  coerce  or  compel 
any  one  to  embrace  a  religion.  Thus  was  won  at  length 
that  which  the  Christians  had  so  long  demanded,  that 
for  which  they  had  struggled  and  shed  their  blood. 
The  edict  of  Milan  marks  the  great  moment  when  the 
truth  obtained  recognition,  that  no  one  could  be  forced 
into  a  religion,  because  forced  religion  ceases  to  be 
religion  at  all.  These  fundamental  principles  of  reli- 
gious freedom  have  often  again  been  obscured,  for  long 
enough,  for  centuries  they  have  almost  been  lost  sight 
of ;  but  they  have  always  again  worked  their  way  to  the 
surface,  and  he  who  denies  them  denies  in  its  essence 
the  Christianity  to  which  they  belong. 

It  was  simply  a  consequence  of  these  principles, 
when  Constantine  ordered  that  all  the  property  confis- 
cated during  the  time  of  persecution  should  be  restored 
to  the  Christians.  This  indeed  only  made  good  the 
transgressions  of  the  previous  years  against  the  princi 
pie  of  toleration.    But  the  Emperor  added,  with  great 


CHAP,  n.]  THE  EDICT  OF  MILAN.  433 

wisdom,  that  those  who  had  bought  the  confiscated 
estates  of  churches  should  give  them  back  indeed,  but 
should  receive  compensation  from  the  imperial  treasury. 
Thus  the  Christians  received  their  rights,  and  yet  harsh- 
ness and  discontent  were  avoided. 

The  edict  itself  did  not  go  further  than  this,  but  the 
urgency  with  which  Constantine  enjoint^d  on  the  officials 
its  prompt  and  careful  fulfillment,  fosters  the  suspicion 
that  Constantine  did  not  intend  to  stop  there.  His  atti- 
tude towards  Christianity  was  no  longer  merely  neutral, 
but  already  one  of  positive  friendliness  and  favor.  It 
could  not  be  otherwise :  it  is  impossible  for  the  State  to 
occupy  a  purely  neutral  attitude  towards  the  religions 
which  prevail  in  it.  A  State  without  a  religion  is  a  mere 
figment  of  the  imagination,  which  can  only  be  cherished 
by  those  who  have  no  idea  what  religion  is.  Religion 
controls  the  whole  life  of  man.  Must  it  not  also  con- 
trol the  lives  of  those  who  govern  the  State  ?  As  soon 
as  Constantine  had  become  favorably  disposed  towards 
Christianity,  the  change  in  him  would  necessarily  influ- 
ence the  policy  of  his  government,  and  that  in  an 
increasing  degree,  the  nearer  he  himself  approached  to 
becoming  a  Christian.  Already  Christianity  stood  in 
his  estimate  higher  than  Heathenism,  for  his  favorite 
name  for  it  was  "  the  most  devout  religion."  He  came 
to  see  clearly  that  fallen  Heathenism  was  drawing  the 
State  into  its  ruin,  and  that  if  the  State  was  really  to 
reiiew  its  life,  it  must  be  on  a  new  religious  basis,  which 
only  Chrisiianity  could  offer.  The  more  distinctly  he 
recognized  this,  the  more  zealously  did  he  seek  to  make 
a  place  for  Christianity,  and  to  estabhsh  a  connection 
^between  the  Church  and  the  State.  Christianity  was 
CO  be  the  salt  to  preserve  the  State  from  the  corruption 
of  Heathenism. 


t 


434  THE  VICTORY.  [book  m 

A  series  of  measures  was  the  fruit  of  this  endeavor. 
As  early  as  March,  A.  D.  313,  the  clergy  were  released 
from  the  duty  of  filling  municipal  offices,  at  that  time  a 
great  and  costly  burden.^  Thus  one  of  the  privileges 
of  the  heathen  priests  was  extended  to  the  clergy,  who 
were  thus  put  on  an  equality  with  the  priests.  About 
the  same  time  the  Emperor  gave  considerable  sums  of 
money  for  the  support  of  the  clergy.^  The  Church  also 
received  the  right  of  having  wills  drawn  in  its  favor.'* 
Then  several  statutes  in  the  laws,  which  were  contrary 
to  Christianity  and  its  principles,  were  repealed.  The 
punishments  of  crucifixion  and  of  breaking  the  legs 
were  done  away  with."  The  cross,  now  the  sign  of  sal- 
vation, the  highly  venerated  symbol  of  Christianity 
itself,  could  no  longer  be  used  in  a  disgraceful  punish- 
ment. Criminals  were  no  longer  to  be  branded  on  the 
forehead,  that  the  majesty  of  the  human  countenance, 
which  is  fashioned  in  the  image  of  heavenly  beauty, 
might  not  be  dishonored. '^  This  was  a  seemingly  unim- 
portant, but  really  very  significant  regulation,  for  it  is 
founded  on  the  recognition  of  the  dignity  of  man,  of 
which  Heathenism  knew  nothing,  and  which  Christianity 
first  brought  to  light.  Limitations  were  also  imposed 
on  the  gladiatorial  contests.  They  were,  of  course,  not 
expressly  forbidden,  but  it  was  decreed  that  in  future 
no  criminal  was  to  be  condemned  to  the  Games.  Those 
who  had  deserved  such  a  sentence  should  rather  be  sent 
to  labor  in  the  mines,  that  they  might  expiate  their 
crimes  without  bloodshed.^'  Thus  the  State  withdrew 
from  the  Games,  and  no  longer  co-operated  to  promote 
them.  Attention  was  directed  towards  the  prisons,  and 
the  merciful  treatment  of  prisoners  was  made  the  duty* 
of  the  officials.'*    The  lawf  concerning  marriage  were 


fHAP.  n.]  LAWS  FAVORING  CHRISTIANITY.  435 

in  several  particulars  accommodated  to  the  vie\f  s  of  the 
Christians.  The  laws  against  the  unmarried  and  the 
childless  were  abrogated,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  laws 
were  enacted  punishing  adultery  and  seduction.^'^  The 
exposure  of  children  was  forbidden.^^  If  a  father  de- 
clared that  he  was  not  in  a  condition  to  support  his 
child,  provision  was  made  for  its  care."  When  on  the 
occasion  of  a  severe  famine  in  A.  D.  321  many  parents 
sold  their  children,  this  practice  too  was  prohibited.  If 
parents  were  in  want,  the  public  treasury  would  pro- 
vide for  their  relief;  "  for  it  is  against  our  customs,  that, 
under  our  rule,  any  one  should  be  compelled  by  hunger 
to  commit  a  crime."^^  The  manumission  of  slaves  was 
facilitated,  and  at  the  same  time  it  was  provided  that 
it  should  take  place  in  the  church  and  in  presence  of 
the  priest.^^  The  Church  thus  received  the  great  office 
of  continuing  the  emancipation  of  slaves,  already  begun 
by  it,  with  the  support  of  the  State.  Of  peculiar  im- 
portance, finally,  were  the  laws  which  commanded  the 
general  observance  of  Sunday.  On  "  the  venerable  Day 
of  the  Sun "  no  labor  was  to  be  performed  excepting 
pressing  agricultural  work ;  the  courts  and  administra- 
tive offices  were  to  be  closed,  and  no  legal  business 
transacted  except  the  manumission  of  slaves.^"  The 
soldiers  were  conducted  into  the  open  country,  and 
there  held  a  service  of  a  peculiar  kind,  but  one  entirely 
characteristic  of  this  time  of  transition.  It  was  not 
heathen,  but  it  was  also  not  as  yet  thoroughly  Chris- 
tian. It  consisted  mainly  in  the  invocation  of  the  one 
supreme  God,  at  this  time  recognized  by  most  of  the 
heathen,  that  He  might  bless  the  Emperor  and  the 
Empire.^^ 
The  heathen  worship  indeed  was  not  forbidden.    Not 


436  THE  VICTOEY.  [book  m 

till  later  did  Constantine  shut  up  certain  temples  in 
which  the  rites  were  connected  with  gross  licentious- 
Qess,  and  forbid  the  celebration  in  private  houses  of 
sacrifices  which  included  the  inspection  of  the  entrails." 
Those  who  felt  the  need  of  sacrifices  were  to  go  to  the 
temples.  "  We  do  not  forbid,"  the  Emperor  declares, 
"  the  ceremonies  of  the  old  cultus "  (by  this  time  the 
official  name  for  Heathenism),  "  but  they  must  be  cele- 
brated in  broad  daylight."  ^^  Now,  as  formerly,  the  Em- 
peror exercised  the  office  of  Pontifex  Maximus^  which 
was  joined  to  the  imperial  dignity.  Not  only  in  Rome 
were  ancient  temples  restored,  but  even  in  the  new 
Rome  on  the  Bosphorus,  in  Constantinople,  although 
the  town  from  the  first  was  predominantly  Christian, 
temples  were  still  erected  to  the  gods.  While  on  the 
one  hand  the  bishops  enjoyed  constant  access  at  court, 
yet  on  the  other  hand  the  Emperor  held  frequent 
intercourse  with  heathen,  and  had  some  of  them  con- 
stantly neai  his  own  person.  The  forcible  suppression 
of  Heathenism  in  any  way  was  never  thought  of.  The 
State  respected  the  religious  freedom  of  the  citizen, 
and  did  not  regard  it  as  its  duty  to  convert  him,  but 
gave  the  Church  a  place,  and  left  it  free  scope.  The 
State  did  not  esteem  itself  able,  or  in  duty  bound  for 
its  part,  to  uproot  every  thing  un-Christian  with  ex- 
cessive zeal,  but  it  withdrew  from  partnership  with 
Heathenism.  Christian  ideas  were  permitted  to  influ- 
ence the  legislation  of  the  State,  and  the  general  ob- 
servance of  Sunday  wove  a  very  firm  bond  between 
the  life  of  the  people  and  Christianity;  but  beyond 
this  the  new  religion  was  left  to  work  itself  out. 

Constantine's  conduct,  especially  in  theso  first  years, 
haa  been  called  ambiguous,  and  certainly  not  without 


CHAP,  n.:     HEATHENISM  GRADUALLY  BEPRESSED.  437 

reason.  The  Emperor  himself  indeed  confessed  it» 
when,  on  his  death-bed,  he  accompanied  hiu  request  for 
baptism  with  the  words,  "  Now  all  ambiguit}?-  vanishes."  ^ 
But  in  order  to  be  just  to  Constantine,  two  things  must 
not  be  forgotten.  First,  how  difficult  it  was  to  be  a 
Roman  Emperor  and  at  the  same  time  a  Christl-ati. 
Constantine  indeed  often  felt  it  deeply  enough,  and 
finally  gave  expression  to  this  consciousness  by  never 
again  assuming  the  imperial  purple  after  his  baptism.^ 
Secondly,  it  must  be  conceded,  that  the  attitude  ol 
Constantine  in  his  difficult  position,  and  considering  the 
magnitude  of  his  task,  was  in  many  respects  wise  and 
prudent.  Without  violence.  State  and  Church  ap- 
proached each  other,  step  by  step.  Heathenism  was 
thrust  back,  and  the  influence  of  Christianity  on  the 
life  of  the  State  and  of  the  people  steadily  increased.  * 
The  State  was  not  yet  Christian,  but  it  was  near  the 
point  of  becoming  so,  and  drew  every  year  nearer. 
Even  without  the  express  removal  of  Heathenism  from 
being  the  religion  of  the  State,  and  the  substitution  of 
Christianity  for  it,  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  no 
longer  heathen  but  Christian  ideas  influenced  the  meas- 
ures of  the  State  to  an  increasing  extent ;  and  while  in 
public  matters,  such  as  documents,  inscriptions,  coins, 
neutral  formulas  and  symbols  were  favored, — for  in- 
stance, the  now  very  common  expression,  deiti/,  —  yet  it 
is  easy  to  see  that  these  neutral  formulas  were  intended 
to  pave  the  way  for  others  specifically  Christian.  In- 
deed, this  was  a  time  of  transition  for  Constantine,  as 
well  as  for  his  Empire.  In  this  period  many  things  not 
germane  to  Christianity,  many  plainly  heathenish,  ex- 
isted side  by  side  with  Christianity.  But,  instead  oi 
reproaching   the   Emperor  with  this    fact,   we    ought 


438  THE  VICTOBY.  [book  nx 

rather  to  admire  the  statesmanlike  wisdom  wita  which, 
although  his  own  purposes  were  certainly  settled  at 
that  time,  he  yet  did  not  rashly  grasp  at  their  fulfill- 
ment, but  waited  tranquilly  until  the  right  moment 
came,  and  that  which  he  sought  dropped  like  ripened 
fruit  into  his  hand. 

This  was  particularly  the  case  in  his  attitude  towards 
the  East,  which  still  remained  under  the  rule  of  Licinius 
The  union  of  the  whole  Empire  was  certainly  from  the  • 
first  the  object  of  Constantine's  ambition,  but  alluring 
as  was  the  scheme  of  attaining  this  object  in  a  single 
campaign  after  his  brilliant  victories,  yet  the  Emperor 
checked  himself,  and  bided  his  time.  Even  after  the 
war  had  broken  out  with  Licinius,  and  Constantine 
had  won  the  first  battle,  he  made  peace  again  with  him. 
Enduring,  of  course,  the  peace  could  not  be.  The 
Empire  could  not  continue  divided,  either  in  govern 
ment  or  religion.  Indeed,  as  in  this  period  all  politica* 
questions  were  at  bottom  religious,  and  in  every  conflict 
the  real  issue  was  the  conflict  between  Christianity  and 
Heathenism,  so  was  in  this  case  the  division  of  the 
Empire  no  less  rel^ous  than  political,  and  became  so 
increasingly  from  day  to  day,  in  the  natural  course  of 
things.  While  Constantine  was  more  and  more  taking 
the  side  of  Christianity,  rivalry  to  him  made  Licinius 
the  firm  ally  of  Heathenism.  EQs  political  suspicion 
made  him  mistrust  Christianity.  In  every  Christian  he 
saw  an  adherent,  in  every  bishop  a  secret  agent  of  his 
rival,  Constantine.  Without  resorting  to  bloodshed, 
he  endeavored  to  hem  in  Christianity  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, and  to  promote  Heathenism .^^  Assemblies  of  the 
bishops  were  forbidden.  Christian  instruction  was  hin- 
dered under  all  kinds  of  pretexts,  in  some  places  the 


CHAP  n.]  CONILICT  WITH  LICINIUS.  439 

services  of  the  Christians  were  banished  from  the 
churches  in  the  towns  to  the  open  country ;  and  to  this 
last  order  Licinius  mockingly  added  that  the  fresh  air 
would  be  more  wholesome  for  such  numerous  assem- 
blies." In  Pontus  a  number  of  churches  were  perma- 
nently closed.  The  Christians  were  accused  of  having 
prayed  for  Constantine,  instead  of  for  Licinius.  From 
the  Emperor's  vicinity,  from  the  chief  offices  civil  and 
military,  all  Christians  were  removed,  and  the  entire 
administration,  including  the  command  of  the  army, 
was  put  into  the  hands  of  stanch  heathen.^  Still  worse 
things  came  about,  but  without  our  being  able  to  see 
how  far  Licinius  was  to  blame,  how  far  his  officials 
were  guilty,  whom  their  master's  feeling  against  Chris- 
tianity might  easily  have  incited  to  acts  of  open  perse- 
cution. Christians  were  condemned  to  the  confiscation 
of  their  property,  on  account  of  their  fidelity  to  their 
religion ;  they  were  deprived  of  their  rank  and  their 
freedom,  sent  to  the  mines,  and  ill  treated  in  other  ways.^ 
Indeed,  even  at  this  time  some  Christians  sealed  their 
faith  with  death ;  namely,  among  the  soldiers,  in  whose 
case  both  military  discipline  and  the  severity  of  martial 
law  came  into  play.  Such  were  the  famous  Forty 
Martyrs  of  Sebaste.  The  governor  of  Armenia  Minor, 
so  we  are  told,  gave  orders  that  forty  soldiers,  who  in- 
fused to  deny  their  faith,  should  be  exposed,  completely 
naked,  on  the  ice,  to  the  fierce  cold  of  a  winter  night. 
For  those  who  made  up  tl  eir  minds  to  renounce  Christ, 
a  warm  bath  and  every  n:.eans  of  restoration  were  pro- 
vided on  the  bank.  Only  one  yielded  and  came  to  the 
shore.  But  in  his  place  one  of  the  guard  immediately 
went  out  as  a  martyr,  so  that  forty  came  to  their  death.* 
The  result  of  all  such  measures  was,  that  the  Christians 


440  THE  VICTORY.  [book  Uu 

really  began  to  look  to  Constantine  as  their  deliverer, 
while  the  heathen  set  their  hopes  on  Licinius.  And 
when  the  long  suspense  finally  gave  plaee  to  open  war 
again,  it  necessarily  assumed  the  character  of  a  conflict 
of  religions. 

Licinius  for  his  part  openly  proclaimed  it.  Before 
beginning  the  campaign,  he  assembled  the  chiefs  of  the 
army  and  the  principal  nobles  of  the  court  in  a  sacred 
grove.  After  the  sacrifices  had  been  offered,  he  pointed 
to  the  statues  of  the  gods,  as  those  which  had  come 
down  from  the  forefathers,  and  accused  Constantine  of 
having  deserted  the  ancestral  shrines,  of  worshipping  a 
foreign  god,  and  of  putting  the  army  of  the  Romans 
to  shame  by  means  of  the  disgraceful  banner  of  the 
cross.  Then  he  expressly  demanded  a  judgment  of 
God.  "  The  present  crisis,"  he  said,  "  will  prove  which 
of  us  errs  in  judgment,  by  deciding  between  our  gods 
and  those  revered  by  our  adversaries.  .  .  .  And,  indeed 
if  the  stranger  (god)  whom  we  now  laugh  at,  prove 
victorious,  we  too  must  recognize  and  honor  him,  and 
bid  a  long  farewell  to  those  for  whom  we  burn  tapers 
in  vain.  But  if  our  own  gods  conquer,  as  is  no  wise 
doubtful,  then,  after  this  victory,  we  will  prosecute  the 
war  against  the  impious."''^  On  the  other  side,  Con- 
stantine carried  into  the  field  the  banner  of  the  cross, 
and  in  more  than  one  fierce  and  bloody  battle  he  and 
his  army  believed  that  they  owed  their  victory  to  this 
banner.  Licinius  was  completely  vanquished;  Con- 
stantuie  remained  sole  lord  of  the  re-united  empire. 

The  judgment  of  God  which  they  had  invoked  fell 
heavily  upon  the  heathen.  Heathenism  seemed  to  be 
annihilated  at  one  blow,  and  now  the  heathen  crowded 
in  multitudes  into   the   Church.     Everywhere  in  the 


CHAP,  u.]  TRIUMPH  OF  CHRISTIAKITY.  441 

towns  and  villages  the  white  robes  of  the  baptized  were 
to  be  seen ;  the  temples  of  the  ancient  gods  were  de- 
serted ;  the  churches  of  the  victorious  God  of  the  Chris- 
tians could  not  contain  the  multitude  of  His  worshippers. 
And  the  course  of  events  must  have  exerted  a  great 
influence  upon  Constantine.  He  now  showed  quite  a 
different  spirit  from  that  of  his  utterances  after  the 
victory  over  Maxentius.  He  openly  confessed  his  belief 
in  the  true  God,  and  condemned  Heathenism  as  eixor 
and  sin.  He  distinctly  declared  that  he  was  now  called 
as  a  servant  of  God  to  lead  the  world  from  the  setting 
to  the  rising  sun,  out  of  darkness  into  light,  into  the 
service  due  to  the  true  God.  Yet  he  expressly  disa- 
vowed any  purpose  of  trying  to  suppress  Heathenism 
by  force :  the  erring  should  enjoy  the  same  tranquillity 
as  the  faithful,  though  his  counsel  to  all  men  would  be 
to  embrace  Christianity.  "  Let  every  one  do  what  his 
soul  desires.  .  .  .  Those  who  hold  themselves  aloof 
may  have,  as  they  desire,  the  temples  of  lies.  But  we 
have  the  most  glorious  house  of  Thy  truth,  which  Thou 
hast  given  us  for  our  own.  And  we  ask  the  same  bless- 
ing for  them  that  they  too  may  attain  this  joy  through 
the  universal  peace  and  concord."  ^ 

Now  appeared  in  swift  succession  a  series  of  laws-all 
calculated  to  allow  of  the  gradual  extinction  of  Hea- 
thenism, and  on  the  other  hand  to  promote  Christianity 
and  to  make  it  the  sole  religion  of  the  Empire.  Old 
and  ruined  temples  were  not  to  be  restored.  Officials 
were  forbidden  to  participate  in  sacrifices,  and  it  would 
seem  that  later  the  attempt  was  made  to  do  away  with 
sacrifices  everywhere.  In  some  places  the  people  went 
further  than  this.  Avarice  put  its  hand  to  the  work, 
temples  were  plundered,  despoiled  of  their  statues,  and 


442  THE  VIOTOBY.  [Bcy>K  m 

their  columns,  timbers,  and  stones  used  for  other  build- 
ings. On  the  other  hand  a  general  enlargement  of  the 
chiu'ches  was  instituted,  and  Constantine  himself  erected 
a  number  of  splendid  basilicas  in  the  great  cities,  in 
Antioch  and  Mcomedia.  In  Jerusalem,  on  the  spot 
wliere  the  Lord  was  buried  and  rose  again,  was  built 
the  magnificent  Church  of  the  Holj  Sepulchre  and  of 
the  Resurrection ;  and  Helena,  the  mother  of  the  Em- 
peror, adorned  the  Mount  of  Olives  and  Bethlehem 
with  shrines.  Finally  Constantine  gave  to  the  Empire 
a  new  metropolis.  Christian  from  its  beginning.  Since 
old  Rome  held  strongly  to  the  heathen  religion,  he  cre- 
ated a  new  Rome  on  the  Bosphorus.  There  Christian 
churches  rose,  chief  of  all  the  large  and  stately  Church 
of  the  Apostles,  built  of  marble  and  colored  stones; 
there  the  city  was  full  of  Christian  signs  and  symbols. 
There^^ere  not  to  be  seen,  as  in  the  squares  of  the 
ancient  towns,  the  statues  of  the  gods,  but  in  the  mar- 
ket-place stood  a  statue  of  the  Good  Shepherd ;  ^  and  at 
the  entrance  of  the  imperial  palace  there  attracted  the 
gaze  of  all  who  went  out  and  in,  an  immense  picture  rep- 
resenting Constantine  himself  with  the  Laharum^  the 
banner  of  the  cross,  in  his  hand,  and  under  his  feet, 
pierced  with  arrows,  a  dragon,  the  dragon  of  Heathen- 
ism.^ 

In  truth  that  dragon  was  conquered,  after  having 
vented  his  rage  upon  Christianity  for  almost  three  cen- 
turies. The  victory  was  complete  and  lasting,  for  the 
final  attempt  of  the  Emperor  Julian  to  restore  Heathen- 
ism to  power  could  only  result  in  completely  laying 
bare  its  impotence  and  hastening  its  utter  destruction. 
Constantine's  work  was  not  without  its  great  and  serious 
defects;  we  shalllearn  more  about  them  later.    From 


<IHAP.  n.J  CHURCH  AND  STATE.  443 

the  new  situation  there  arose  new  dangers  and  new 
injuries  to  the  Church.  Yet  it  was  no  "  Adonis  garden 
blooming  for  a  single  day,"*^  as  his  nephew  Julian 
scornfully  called  it,  that  the  great  E-nperor  planted ; 
but  it  had  a  destiny  of  centuries,  and  every  day  we 
enjoy  its  fruits.  Constantino  could  not,  of  course,  save 
the  Roman  Empire.  Its  life  ran  out,  for  it  had  ful- 
filled its  mission  of  gathering  for  Christ.  Its  destiny 
was  tc  die  by  the  hand  of  Christianity,  because  its  chief 
end  was  to  prepare  for  Christianity  its  first  sphere  in  the 
world.  Afterwards  the  Christian  age  was  to  bring  new 
forms  of  national  and  political  life.  Constantino  the 
Great  was  succeeded  —  though  it  was  centuries  later  — 
by  Charlemagne.  Out  of  the  riiins  of  the  Christian- 
ized Roman  Empire,  the  Roman  Empire  of  the  German 
nation  arose,  and  in  this  the  achievement  of  Constantino 
was  really  completed.  The  whole  succeeding  history  of 
the  Teutonic  peoples  was  defined  and  determined  by 
the  deed  of  Constantino,  and  we  need  only  to  be  re- 
minded of  the  significance  of  the  "  Christian  Magistra- 
cy "  for  the  Reformation,  in  order  to  see  how  the  bless- 
ing of  this  action  of  the  first  Christian  Emperor  flows 
down  through  the  Reformation  to  ourselves.  From  the 
days  of  Constantino  there  existed  a  Christian  magis- 
tracy —  in  those  words  the  whole  result  is  summed  up 
to  every  one  who  can  comprehend  their  meaning. 

Our  own  age  is  the  first  which  has  commenced  to 
batter  at  Constantino's  work,  and  many  hold  it  necessary 
to  demand  the  exact  reversal  of  the  step  he  took,  as 
the  prerequisite  of  a  step  forward  in  the  development 
of  civilization.  Those  who  make  this  their  endeavor 
would  do  well  to  consider,  that  it  was  the  State  which 
in  its  distress  sought  the  all'ance  with  Christianity,  be 


444  THE  VICTORY.  [book  m 

cause  it  needed  a  new  bond  with  tlie  conscience  of  the 
citizen,  because  it  was  in  want  of  a  new  moral  salt  to 
preserve  the  national  life  from  complete  corruption.  If 
it  should  really  come  to  pass  that  the  bond,  which  Con- 
stantino created  between  Christianity  and  political  and 
national  life,  should  be  ruptured,  it  would  soon  become 
evident  that  the  State  cannot  do  without  Christianity, 
and  the  national  life  would  necessarily  become  hopeless- 
ly corrupt  without  the  salt  of  the  Christian  religion. 
Retrograding  beyond  Constantino  the  world  would 
adopt  Diocletian's  policy,  the  attempt  would  have  to  be 
made  once  more  to  suppress  Christianity  by  force,  and 
then,  either  our  entire  national  life  and  civilization  would 
go  to  ruin,  as  Diocletian's  schemes  and  the  whole  an- 
tique civilization  went,  or  it  would  ,be  necessary  to  de- 
cide upon  doing  Constantino's  deed  a  second  time,  if 
that  were  still  a  possible  thing. 

One  thing,  however,  I  do  not  intend  to  assert.  I  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  Constantino  took  the  right  method 
in  all  respects  to  create  this  bond  between  Christianity 
and  the  life  of  the  people,  or  that  the  attitude  which 
the  State  and  Church  then  assumed  towards  one  an- 
other was  one  really  appropriate  to  their  respective 
natures  and  ends.  If — God  grant  it!  —  the  struggles 
of  to-day  result  in  confirming  the  bond  which  Constan- 
tino created,  but  also  in  bringing  it  to  perfection,  in 
causing  State  and  Church  to  maintain  their  alliance, 
but  to  preserve  it  in  a  purer  form,  then  the  benefits  of 
Constantino's  achievement  will  accrue  in  richer  meas- 
ure to  us  and  our  children,  and  in  every  sphere  of  life 
the  promise  given  to  Constantino  will  be  anew  con- 
firmed :  "  By  this  sign  conquer ! " 


CHAPTER  m. 

THE   LAST  EPPOBT  OP  HEATHENISM. 

•*  Ifubecula  est,  transibit  I"    It  is  only  a  little  dottd.    It  toUl  pass, 

AtHANABITIi 

In  the  reign  of  Decius,  so  runs  the  legend,  seven 
youths  in  Ephesus  who  had  confessed  theii*  Christian 
faith  in  the  persecution,  but  afterwards  escaped  their 
persecutors,  fell  asleep  in  a  cave  in  which  they  took 
refuge.  When  they  awoke  again,  the  next  morning  as 
they  supposed,  they  sent  one  of  their  number  to  the 
town  to  fetch  food,  and  he  was  greatly  astounded  to 
find  there  every  thing  completely  changed.  Heathen- 
ism had  disappeared,  the  idol  statues  and  temples  were 
gone,  in  their  place  were  splendid  churches ;  and  over 
the  city  gates,  on  the  houses,  and  above  the  churches, 
everywhere,  shone  victorious  that  cross,  for  whose  sake 
they  had,  as  they  thought,  been  persecuted  but  yester- 
day. They  had  slept  two  hundred  years  in  the  cave. 
This  legend  of  the  Seven  Sleepers  well  represents  the 
impression  which  must  have  been  made  on  the  contem 
poraries  of  Constantino,  by  the  gigantic  revolution 
which  they  had  experienced.  The  history  of  the  world 
had  taken  an  immense  stride  forwards,  such  as  seldom 


446  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHEK  [SM.  [book  ra> 

comes  so  suddenly.  On  the  imperial  throne  sat  a 
Christian ;  from  that  quarter  the  Church  was  no  longer 
persecuted,  but  favored ;  the  power  which  the  Emperor 
possessed,  his  personal  influence,  the  resources  at  his 
command,  stood  at  the  disposal  of  Christianity.  The 
Church  for  the  first  time  learned  what  it  meant  to  have 
the  magnates  of  the  earth  as  friends  —  what  advantages, 
but  also  what  dangers,  lay  therein. 

How  suddenly  all  this  had  come  I  It  is  true  that  if 
we  follow  out  the  conflict  carried  on  by  Christianity  for 
three  centuries  past,  the  victory  seems  completely  ac- 
counted for.  We  see  that  in  proportion  as  Christianity 
became  inwardly  more  and  more  the  ruling  power,  the 
moment  drew  ever  nearer  when  it  must  become  so  out- 
wardly. And  yet  the  moment  when,  by  the  decision  of 
an  Emperor,  it  came  into  power,  must  have  thrilled  the 
whole  Empire  with  a  mighty  shock,  and  its  effect  was 
plainly  perceptible  in  the  revolution  sustained  by  indi- 
vidual characters. 

But  we  must  not  imagine  that  the  whole  huge  Em- 
pire, the  entire  life  of  the  people,  at  once  became  Chris- 
tian when  the  Emperor  set  up  the  cross.  The  most 
mighty  of  forces  cannot  change  in  a  day  the  customs 
and  institutions  of  an  Empire  more  than  a  thousand 
years  old.  The  Emperor  was  still  called  Pontifex  Max* 
imTis ;  even  the  succeeding  Emperors,  who  forbade  the 
rites  of  the  ancient  religion,  nevertheless  bore  the  same 
title.  The  statue  of  Victory  still  stood  in  the  Roman 
Senate,  and  before  every  session  libations  and  offerings 
were  brought  to  it.*  At  the  time  when  Constantino  was 
having  regular  Christian  preaching  in  his  palace  in 
order  to  convert  the  heathen  of  his  court,  the  altars  of 
the  Gens  Flavia^  the  imperial  Qens^  were  smoking  in 


CHAP,  in.]  THE  EEVOLUTION  STILL  INCOMPLETE.  447 

the  cities,  and  the  Emperor  still  bore  the  ofiScial  title 
Bivus^  that  is,  he  was  still  in  his  own  perse  n  a  heathen 
God.  Especially  in  the  western  Empire  the  heathen 
were  still  greatly  in  the  majority,  and  the  ancient  reli- 
gion was  still  deeply  rooted  in  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms, in  the  domestic  and  the  public  life.  Heathenism 
was  conquered,  but  it  was  far  from  being  really  sub- 
dued, still  less  extinct.  In  this  new  city  on  the  Bos- 
phorus,  Constantine  set  up  a  colossal  statue  of  himself. 
It  was  an  ancient  statue  of  Apollo.  Its  head  was 
struck  off,  and  a  head  of  Constantine  substituted.  Also, 
inside  the  statue  was  placed  a  piece  of  what  was  sup- 
posed to  be  the  holy  cross,  discovered  by  the  Empress 
Helena.  This  is  a  kind  of  mirror  of  the  age.  A 
heathen  body  with  a  Christian  head  and  Christian 
life  at  the  heart;  for  Christianity  was  in  truth  the 
dominant  power  within,  though  externally  Heathenism 
everywhere  appeared,  and  would  have  to  be  gradually 
overcome  from  within.  This  unique  character  of  the 
times  is  to  be  duly  considered,  if  we  are  truly  to  esti- 
mate the  actors  on  this  stage.  Only  then  can  we  judge 
Constantine  fairly  even  in  his  faults,  only  then  can  we 
comprehend  how  Julian  could  form  the  purpose  of  re- 
storing Heathenism,  and  also  why  his  scheme  would 
necessarily  be  wrecked. 

Triumphs  sudden  and  unexpectedly  great  bring  with 
them  the  danger  that  the  conqueror  will  under-estimate 
the  strength  of  his  opponent,  and,  by  pushing  his  con- 
quest too  far,  will  evoke  a  re-action  against  him  of  the 
forces  which  still  remain.  Even  Constantine  did  not 
escape  this  danger.  After  the  victory  over  Licinius  it 
seemed  as  if  Heathenism  had  forever  collapsed,  and  with 
ease  could  be  completely  put  out  of  the  way.    Though 


448  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  in, 

the  Emperor  would  not  suppress  Heathenism  by  fof  ce, 
yet  he  did  not  interpose  when  fanaticism  and  avarice 
destroyed  the  temples  in  some  places.  Though  he 
would  not  compel  the  heathen  to  change  their  reli- 
^^on,  yet  he  endeavored  in  every  way  to  persuade 
them  so  to  do.  Large  gifts  of  money  were  bestowed 
to  enable  the  Church  to  distribute  liberal  charities ;  for, 
thought  Constantine,  the  sermons  would  not  reach  all, 
some  would  be  won  by  receiving  support  in  a  time 
of  need,  others  by  finding  protection  and  assistance, 
others  again  by  a  friendly  welcome  and  gifts  bestowed 
as  marks  of  honor.  And  the  Emperor  did  not  neglect 
advocating  the  claims  of  the  Church  in  person.  In 
regular  sermons  he  tried  to  convince  his  court-circle 
of  the  truth  of  Christianity,*  and  was  much  delighted 
when  one  or  another  confessed  to  having  been  won  over 
by  him.  The  Church  grew,  and  that  more  rapidly  than 
ever  before,  but  what  kind  of  adherents  were  those 
who  now  thronged  in,  attracted  by  the  sunshine  of  the 
imperial  favor  I 

Worse  than  this,  the  Emperor  now  began  to  interfere 
in  person  in  the  internal  affairs  of  the  Church.  Its 
position  was  one  full  of  temptation  for  him.  He  recog- 
nized the  greatness  of  the  power  which  the  Church  and 
its  hierarchy  possessed.  The  unity  of  the  Empire, 
which  was  the  ruling  idea  of  his  life,  would  suggest  to 
him  the  plan  of  making  the  compact  unity  of  the 
Church  contribute  thereto.  Reminiscences  of  Hea- 
thenism confirmed  this  purpose.  Since  the  Emperor 
had  been  at  the  head  of  the  heathen  religion,  how  could 
he,  now  that  the  Empire  had  become  Christian,  fail 
to  occupy  a  similar  position  without  endangering  fcia 
fjupremacy  over  the  realm?    How  could  he  be  simply 


CHAP.  III.]     INTERFERENCE  WITH  THE  CHUKC±i.  449 

a  spectator,  when,  in  the  Arian  controversy,  the  unity 
of  the  Church  was  threatened  with  dissolution  ?  Thus 
Constantine  began  to  interfere  in  the  internal  affairs 
of  the  Church.  He  called  the  council  of  Nicaea,  he 
confirmed  its  decrees,  and  provided  for  their  execution 
even  with  political  machinery.'  The  Emperor  deter- 
mined what  doctrines  were  to  prevail  in  the  Church,  and 
banished  Arius  to-day  and  Athanasius  to-morrow.  And 
there  were  plenty  of  bishops  who  were  content  with  this 
state  of  things,  and  recognized  the  Emperor  as  a  kind 
of  Pontifex  Maximus  over  the  Church,  —  only  "  a  bishop 
over  the  external  affairs  of  the  Church,"  *  Constantine 
modestly  called  himself.  For  the  Church  was  indeed 
surfeited  with  property  and  privileges.  The  Emperor, 
a  poor  financier,  impoverished  the  Empire  to  enrich 
the  Church.  While  the  provinces  were  groaning  under 
the  pressure  of  taxation,  money  never  was  lacking  to 
build  a  splendid  church,  or  to  buy  costly  robes  or  sacred 
vessels  and  richly  adorned  Bibles  for  a  bishop.  The 
bishops  had  the  freedom  of  the  imperial  palace,  they 
accompanied  the  conqueror  into  camp  and  battle ; 
gold  and  honors  were  liberally  bestowed  upon  them, 
and  some  of  them  at  least  were  not  ashamed  to  reward 
the  "pious  Emperor"  (now  his  regular  designation) 
with  flattery.  Byzantinism  was  already  present  in  germ, 
and  had  begun  to  exert  its  power.  Both  the  purity  and 
the  freedom  of  the  Church  were  in  danger  of  being 
lost,  State  and  Church  were  beginning  an  amalgama-. 
tion  fraught  with  peril.  The  State  was  becoming  a 
kind  of  Church,  and  the  Church  a  kind  of  State.  The 
Emperor  preached  and  summoned  councils,  called  him- 
self, though  half  in  jest,  "a  bishop,"  and  the  bishops 
had  become  State  officials,  who,  like  the  high  dignitaries 


450  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  ul 

of  the  Empire,  travelled  by  the  imperial  courier-service, 
and  frequented  the  ante-chambers  of  the  palaces  in 
Constantinople.  The  power  of  the  State  was  used  to 
the  full  in  order  to  furnish  a  Propaganda  for  the 
Church,  and  in  return  the  Church  was  drawn  into  the 
service  of  the  State.  Even  at  this  time  we  find  decrees 
of  councils  which  threaten  civil  offences  with  ecclesias- 
tical penalties,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  bishops  were 
invested  with  a  considerable  part  of  the  administration 
of  civil  justice.* 

Yet  we  should,  I  think,  be  in  error,  were  we,  on 
account  of  these  mistakes,  to  regard  the  whole  work 
of  Constantine  as  a  failure.  Apart  from  all  else,  it  is 
asking  too  much  to  expect,  that  State  and  Church 
would  immediately  assume  their  proper  relations  as 
soon  as  they  first  entered  into  an  alliance.  For  indeed 
we  are  still  endeavoring  to  solve  this,  the  greatest 
problem  of  the  world's  history.  But  the  recognition 
of  what  Constantine  did  ought  not  to  hinder  us  from 
realizing  the  mistakes  that  were  made,  and  the  perni- 
jious  consequences  for  the  Church  which  necessarily 
resulted.  These  errors  paved  the  way  for  the  re-action 
attempted  by  Julian,  and  let  us  say  now,  that  what  the 
Church  suffered  from  the  apostate  Emperor  was  a  well- 
deserved  discipline. 

The  state  of  affairs  became  much  worse  under  the  sons 
of  Constantine,  who  had  inherited  his  bad  qualities,  am 
bition,  harshness,  and  cruelty,  rather  than  his  good  char* 
acteristics,  and  especially  his  statesmanship.  All  times 
in  which  a  great  revolution  is  accomplished  bring  many 
forms  of  corruption  to  the  surface,  and  this  period  was 
no  exception  to  the  rule.  It  now  became  the  fashion 
at  the  imperial  court  to  be  zealous  for  Christianity.    He 


<7HAP.  ra.]  HEATHENISM  PERSECUTED.  461 

who  wished  to  attain  any  success,  had  fipLt  and  foremost 
to  prove  himself  sound  in  this  respect.  Any  appear- 
ance of  lukewarmness  towards  Christianity,  not  to 
speak  of  inclination  towards  Heathenism,  created  a  sus- 
picion of  political  unsoundness.  Many  of  the  new  con- 
verts, who  but  yesterday  had  been  heathen,  knew  no 
better  way  of  proving  the  sincerity  of  their  conversion 
than  by  exhibiting  fanatical  hatred  towards  the  religion 
whose  adherents  they  would  certainly  still  have  re- 
mained, had  not  their  imperial  master  become  a  Chris- 
tian. Ambitious  priests  crowded  around  the  Emperors, 
and  sought  to  make  themselves  prominent,  in  order  to 
gain  wealth  and  station  by  the  imperial  favor.  Zeal, 
which  was  rash  though  perhaps  not  ill-meaning,  thought 
to  do  service  to  the  Church  by  urging  to  deeds  of 
violence  against  Heathenism,  without  realizing  that  the 
power  of  the  world  which  bitterly  opposes  the  Church 
cannot  do  it  so  much  injury  as  those  who  endeavor  to 
come  to  the  rescue  by  worldly  means.  Men  seemed 
to  have  wholly  forgotten  how  long  and  earnestly  the 
Christians  had  demanded  religious  freedom.  Now  that 
they  had  come  into  power,  they  refused  their  opponents 
the  benefit  of  the  freedom  which  they  had  won.  Those 
who  but  now  were  persecuted  became  persecutors. 
"  Emperors !  "  one  of  their  spokesmen  exhorts  the  sons 
of  Constantine,  "  the  temples  must  be  overthrown  and 
utterly  destroyed  in  order  that  the  pernicious  error  may 
no  longer  pollute  the  Roman  world.  The  Supreme 
God  has  committed  the  government  to  you  in  order 
that  you  may  cure  this  cancer.  When  the  templea 
have  been  destroyed,  and  no  trace  remains  of  Heathen- 
ism, you  will  have  conquered  your  enemies  and  extended 
your  Empire."* 


462  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  ^book  m 

At  first  the  three  brothers,  among  whom  Constan- 
tine  had  divided  the  Empire,  were  fully  occupied 
with  their  family  feuds.  But,  when  Constantine  II. 
had  fallen,  and  the  other  two,  Constans  and  Constantius, 
had  become  supreme  rulers,  the  former  over  the  West 
and  the  latter  over  the  East,  they  really  had  recourse 
to  violent  measures  against  Heathenism.  A  law  pro- 
mulgated in  A.  D.  341  proclaimed :  "  The  heathen  su- 
perstition must  cease,  the  madness  of  offering  sacrifices 
must  be  extirpated ;  whoever  contrary  to  this  law  darea 
to  offer  sacrifices  shall  suffer  punishment  without 
mercy."  ^  Still  more  severe  was  the  legislation  of 
Constantius  when  he  became  sole  ruler  after  the  death 
of  Constans :  "  The  temples  everyivhere  are  to  be  closed, 
in  order  to  deprive  the  heathen  of  the  opportunity  of 
sinning.  He  who  offers  sacrifices  shall  be  struck  down 
by  the  avenging  sword,  his  property  shall  fall  to  the 
State  treasury."  ®  Though  this  law  could  not  be  strictly 
enforced,  yet  in  many  places  the  images  of  the  gods 
were  broken  in  pieces,  and  the  temples  closed,  com- 
pletely dismantled,  or  converted  into  Christian  churches. 
Base  passions  mingled  in  this  work.  The  property  of 
the  temples  was  partly  stolen,  partly  came  into  the 
possession  of  the  churches,  and  often  might  be  seen  in 
Christian  houses  of  worship  the  glitter  of  gold  and 
jewels  which  had  formerly  adorned  heathen  idols. 
Those  who  still  adhered  to  Heathenism  were  compelled 
to  conceal  themselves.  The  agents  of  the  police  searched 
in  every  place,  and  those  who  took  part  in  a  secret  sac- 
rifice, or  even  wore  a  heathen  amulet,  were  liable  to 
suffer  death.' 

These  measures  had  the  result  always  reached  when, 
in  the  conflict  of  spiritual  forces,  the  party  for  the  t'me 


«3HAP.  m.]       LATENT  POWER  OF  HEATHENISM.  458 

being  in  power  resorts  to  the  employment  of  force. 
At  first  every  thing  gives  way,  and  it  looks  as  if  the 
goal  sought  were  to  be  reached  easily  and  without  labor. 
But  if  the  opponent  still  possesses  any  power  of  resist- 
ance, this  will  gradually  increase  as  a  result  of  the  at- 
tack; those  who  belong  to  that  party  come  to  know 
one  another,  and  unite  against  the  common  foe.  Then 
if  circumstances  favor  them,  especially  if  they  find  the 
right  man  for  a  leader,  it  may  happen  that  the  situation 
is  suddenly  reversed  to  the  condemnation  of  those  who 
attempt  to  wage  a  spiritual  conflict  with  the  weapons 
of  the  flesh. 

Heathenism  still  possessed  a  latent  power  greater 
than  those  supposed  who  persuaded  the  Emperors  that 
now  it  could  be  easily  extirpated.  The  state  of  afPairs 
in  the  West  differed  from  that  in  the  East.  In  the 
West  it  was  principally  the  Roman  aristocracy,  who 
with  few  exceptions  still  adhered  to  thdr  ancient  reli- 
gion, and  with  them  the  great  mass  of  the  people*  In 
the  East,  on  the  contrary,  Christianity  had  made  much 
more  progress  among  the  masses,  and  a  real  aristocracy 
could  scarcely  be  said  to  exist.  In  its  stead  there  was 
an  aristocracy  of  learning,  whose  hostility  was  far  more 
dangerous  to  Christianity  than  the  aversion  of  the 
Roman  nobility.  The  youth  still  thronged  to  the 
ancient  and  illustrious  schools  of  Miletus,  Ephesus, 
Nicomedia,  Antioch,  and  above  all  Athens,  and  the 
teachers  in  these  schools  were  almost  without  exception 
heathen.  There  the  ancient  classics  were  studied,  and 
the  eloquence  of  a  Libanius  and  of  other  highly  cul- 
tured rhetoricians  of  the  age  was  enjoyed.  There  the 
ancient  heathen  spirit  was  imbibed,  and  with  it  a  con- 
tempt for  barbarian  Christianity.    The  doctrinal  strife  in 


454  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  m 

fche  Cliristian  Church  was  held  up  to  ridicule,  and,  alas  1 
with  too  much  reason.  For,  according  to  the  Emperor's 
favor  and  caprice,  one  doctrine  stood  for  orthodoxy  to- 
day and  another  to-morrow.  To-day  it  was  decreed  that 
Christ  was  of  the  same  essence  with  the  Father,  and 
all  who  refused  to  acknowledge  this  were  deposed 
and  exiled.  To-morrow  the  court  theology  had  swung 
round,  it  was  decreed  that  Christ  was  a  created  being, 
and  now  it  was  the  turn  of  the  other  party  to  go  into 
banishment.  The  educated  heathen  thought  themselves 
elevated  far  above  all  this  in  their  classic  culture. 
With  what  secret  anger  they  beheld  the  way  in  which 
the  temples  were  laid  waste,  the  works  of  art  broken 
to  pieces,  the  memorials  of  an  age  of  greatness  destroyed, 
and  all  in  favor  of  a  barbarian  religion  destitute  of  cul- 
ture. The  old  rude  forms  of  Heathenism,  indeed,  they 
themselves  did  not  desire,  but  the  refined  Heathenism 
of  the  Neoplatonic  school  seemed  to  them  not  merely 
the  equal  but  the  superior  of  Christianity.  For  they 
believed  that  in  it  they  possessed  whatever  of  truth 
Christianity  contained,  only  in  a  much  more  refined 
form,  wedded  to  culture  and  filled  with  the  classic 
spirit.  So  they  revelled  in  reminiscences  of  the  bygone 
glory  of  Hellas  and  Rome,  and  fondly  cherished  the 
hope  that  better  times  would  one  day  come,  that  the 
triumph  of  Christianity  might  be  only  of  a  transitory 
nature,  and  that  the  "Adonis-gardens  "  which  Constan 
tine  had  planted  would  soon  wither. 

These  were  the  sources  of  the  re-action  against  Chria- 
tianity.     Their  spirit  was  embodied  in  Julian.    In  him 
it  ascended  for  the  last  time  the  imperial  throne,  and 
made  the  final  attempt  to  stop  the  triumphal  progress , 
of  Christianity.     But  it  succeeded  onlj  in  giving  to  the 


3HAP.  m.]  JULIAN'S  EDUCATION.  465 

world  irresistible  evidence  that  the  sceptre  of  the  spiiit 
of  Antiquity  was  forever  broken. 

Flavins  Claudius  Julianus  was  the  son  of  Constan- 
tius,  brother  to  Constantine,  therefore  a  nephew  of  the 
great  Emperor.  His  mother  died  when  he  was  young, 
and  he  lost  his  father  and  all  his  near  relatives,  except 
his  brother  Gallus,  in  the  bloody  quarrels  which  devas- 
tated the  imperial  house  after  the  death  of  Constantine^ 
H.e  himself  was  saved  only  by  his  youth ;  he  was  still 
an  object  of  perpetual  suspicion  to  the  party  in  power, 
and  this  the  more  as  his  extraordinary  and  universal 
gifts  began  early  to  manifest  themselves.  The  Emperor 
Constantius  also  began  to  regard  him  with  distrust,  and 
the  result  was  that  Julian  in  his  fourteenth  year  was 
banished  from  Constantinople,  conveyed  to  the  castle 
of  Macella  in  Cappadocia,  and  there  closely  guarded.^" 
For  a  noble  nature,  and  such  was  Julian's  through  and* 
through,  there  is  nothing  more  dangerous  than  thus*  to  * 
grow  up  under  the  burden  of  suspicion  and  in  the  midst 
of  intriguing  factions.  Such  a  nature  is  driven^  contrary 
to  its  essential  character,  into  deceit.  Julian  ..learned 
from  his  early  youth  to  conceal  his  real  thoughts ;  he 
was  compelled  to  cultivate  systematically  a  hjrpocrisy 
which  afterwards  became  the  worst  trait  of  his  charac- 
ter. Worse  still,  it  was  thought  in  Constantinople  that 
the  best  way  to  deprive  Constantino's  nephew  of  all 
political  importamce  was  to  destine  him  for  the  Church. 
lie  was  carefully  cut  off  from  all  contact  with  Heathen- 
ism, his  whole  education  was  confided  to  ecclesiastics, 
and  assumed  a  character  severely  religious.  His  time 
was  divided  between  studies  and  services,  even  his 
recreation  was  an  exercise  of  devotion.  In  his  leisure 
hours    Julian  had  to  build  a   chapel  to  the  c::artyi 


456  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  m, 

Mamas  "  as  a  kind  of  amusement.  That  this  training 
accomplished  the  opposite  of  what  was  attempted,  iieetl 
not  surprise  us,  especially  when  we  hear  in  mind  what 
kind  of  a  Christianity  it  was  which  was  forcibly  poured 
into  the  youth  as  with  a  funnel, — dogmatic  contro- 
versy rather  than  heart-faith,  dead  ceremony  rather 
than  spiritual  life.  Julian  never  learned  to  know 
^true  Christianity;  the  imperial  court  was  the  worst 
imaginable  place,  and  his  training  in  captivity  the  worst 
imaginable  means,  for  acquiring  such  knowledge.  On 
the  contrary  he  became  even  thus  early  estranged  from 
Christianity.  He  would  naturally  hate  a  religion  whose 
lepresentatives  had  murdered  his  family,  and  whose 
priests  were  his  jailers.  Of  course  he  did  not  dare  to 
exhibit  any  signs  of  this  disgust,  but  outwardly  shewed 
himself  a  zealous  Christian,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to 
enter  the  lowest  grade  of  clerical  orders.  He  became 
a  reader  in  the  Church,^^  and  obtained  the  reputation 
of  peculiar  piety. 

Even  to  the  Emperor  Constantius  he  now  appeared 
not  dangerous.  He  was  set  at  liberty  again,  and  spent 
some  time  in  Constantinople,  where  the  Sophist  Hece- 
bolius  (a  man  at  bottom  wholly  indifferent  in  religious 
matters,  but  who  had  become  a  zealous  Christian  for 
the  sake  of  obtaining  favor  at  court  ^')  strove  to  fill 
Julian  with  contempt  for  the  heathen  gods,  but  evi- 
dently exercised  no  favorable  influence  over  him.  Then 
he  was  even  permitted  to  go  to  Nicomedia  in  order 
to  study  philosophy  and  rhetoric  there.  But  he  had  to 
gi^e  a  promise  to  his  teacher  Hecebolius  that  he  woidd 
not  hear  Libanius,  the  chief  representative  of  the  party 
which  included  the  heathen  philosophers  and  rhetori- 
cians."    That  which  was  forbidden  became   only  the 


CH4P.  m.]  JULIAN  AND  THE  HE  .LENISTS.  451 

more  attractive.  Julian  did  keep  his  promise  of  not 
hejiriiip:  Libaiiins,  but  he  the  more  zealously  studied  I  i 
writings,  ai)d  soon  had  established  persona!  or  epistola.  . 
relations  with  the  ehiet*  men  of  those  circles  of  heailu  i 
culture  wliich  have  been  described.^**  They  conjured  l| 
all  the  splendor  of  the  ancient  world  before  his  eyes, 
they  opened  the  classics  to  him,  and  speedily  won  the 
youth  for  the  ideas  in  which  they  lived.  With  wha\ 
eagerness  did  he  now  study  Plato  and  Aristotle ;  what 
inspiration  he  now  drew  from  listening  to  the  revela- 
tions of  the  Neoplatonic  philosophy ;  with  what  a  holy 
awe  was  he  filled  by  the  magic  arts,  the  practice  of 
which  was  a  favorite  pursuit  in  these  circles !  Here  he 
believed  himself  to  have  found  that  for  which  his  soul 
long  had  languished.  How  could  men  give  up  all  this 
splendor  for  the  sake  of  barbarian  Christianity  1  It 
may  be  regarded  as  certain  that  Julian  even  then,  in 
A.  D.  351,  returned  to  Heathenism,  and,  beside  the 
rhetoricians  of  Nicomedia,  it  was  principally  the  aged 
and  illustrious  Neoplatonist,  Maximus  of  Ephesus  who 
brought  about  his  perversion.^® 

What  influenced  Julian  was  chiefly  enthusiasm  for 
Greek  culture.  Even  in  a  religious  aspect  Pol^'theism 
seemed  to  him  superior  to  Monotheism,  because  more 
philosophic.  Neoplatonism  filled  the  whole  soul  of  the 
young  enthusiast,  and  seemed  to  him  to  comprehend  all 
the  culture  of  the  ancient  world  in  a  unified  system. 
But  of  course  his  vanity  had  a  great  share  in  the  mat- 
ter, for  he  naturally  received  the  most  devoted  homage 
among  the  Hellenists,  and  his  rhetorical  friends  did  not 
stint  their  flattery.  Under  the  fore  ble  measures  then 
adopted  by  Constantius  against  the  ancient  faith,  the 
heathen  party  had  become  more   closely  consolidated, 


468  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  m. 

and  already  cherished  various  schemes  for  the  restora- 
tion of  Heathenism,  while  Julian  was  already  looked 
upon  as  the  man  who  was  one  day  to  realize  them." 
He  had,  it  is  true,  still  studiously  to  conceal  his  predi- 
lection for  Heathenism,  and  to  appear  outwardly  as  a 
zealous  Christian  and  an  admirer  of  Constantius;  but 
his  friends  hoped  for  a  time  when  he  would  be  able  to 
come  forward  openly  in  his  true  character,  and  that 
time  was  to  come  more  speedily  than  even  their 
boldest  hopes  could  anticipate.  Suddenly  and  unex- 
pectedly to  Julian,  he  was  called  away  from  his  classic 
studies,  and  given  a  place  in  practical  political  life. 

Things  looked  dark  in  the  Empire.  On  the  South- 
east the  Persians  were  moving  to  the  attack;  on  the 
North-west  the  Germans  were  pressing  on,  and  had 
already  overrun  part  of  Gaul.  Constantius  stood  almost 
alone,  such  gaps  had  family  feuds  made  with  poison 
and  the  sword  in  the  once  flourishing  house  of  Constan- 
tine.  Julian  alone  survived,  after  Gallus,  his  brother, 
had  been  murdered. 

The  Emperor  determined  to  call  Julian  to  his  assist- 
ance. He  was  made  Coesar^  and  invested  with  the 
supreme  command  over  the  troops  in  Gaul.  Julian  was 
to  repulse  the  Germans,  while  the  Emperor  imdertook 
the  defence  of  the  eastern  frontier  against  the  Per- 
Bians.^*  With  startling  rapidity  did  the  young  Caesar 
now  develop  his  wonderful  gifts.  He  who  had  hitherto 
li^ed  only  for  study,  soon  showed  himself  an  able 
general  and  a  sagacious  ruler.  Conscientiously  dividing 
his  time  between  the  studies  which  he  even  now  did 
not  neglect,  and  his  duties  as  a  ruler,  a  model  of  sim- 
plicity in  his  way  of  living,  pure  and  austere  in  his 
morality,  sharing  every  danger  and  e^-ery  fatigue  with 


CHAP,  m.]        JULIAN  COMES  TO  THE  THBONB.  V>a 

his  soldiers,^^  he  succeeded  by  a  series  of  victorious 
battles  in  driving  the  Germans  back  over  the  Rhine, 
and  in  bringing  peace  to  Gaul.  Deified  by  his  soldiers, 
he  was  also  held  in  high  honor  by  the  inhabitants  of  the 
province.  This  aroused  again  the  old  suspicions  in 
Constantinople,  carefully  as  Julian  avoided  all  that 
could  provoke  the  Emperor,  and  studiously  as  he  con- 
cealed his  Heathenism  above  all.  For  while,  in  the 
select  circle  of  his  trusted  friends,  the  ancient  gods 
were  still  worshipped  in  the  palace  of  Julian,  he  still 
appeared  in  public  as  a  Christian.^ 

In  order  to  prevent  his  becoming  too  powerful,  Mie 
Emperor  near  the  end  of  A.  D.  360  recalled  from  Gaul 
the  best  legions,  which  were  under  Julian's  command, 
nominally  because  he  needed  to  use  them  against  the 
Persians. ^^  The  legions  refused  to  march,  and  pro- 
claimed Julian  Augustus,  Even  now  Julian  tried  to 
placate  Constantius;  but,  when  the  attempt  proved 
fruitless,  when  Julian  saw  that  it  was  a  matter  of  life 
and  death  with  him,  he  assumed  the  rank  of  Emperor, 
and  advanced  at  the  head  of  his  army.  He  had  already 
reached  Dacia,  when  the  news  met  him  that  Constan- 
tius had  died  Nov.  3,  361,  on  the  march  against  the  Per- 
sians. Without  further  resistance  the  whole  Empire 
recognized  Julian  as  Emperor,  and  he  hastened  to  Con- 
stantinople. He  made  his  entry  there  as  a  declared 
heathen.  Although  at  the  beginning  of  his  campaign 
he  had  secretly  sacrificed  to  Bellona,  yet  he  had  at- 
tended the  church  in  Vienne.^^  But  on  the  march  he 
put  an  end  to  all  ambiguity,  and  publicly  offered  sac- 
rifices to  the  ancient  gods.  The  Roman  Empire  once 
more  had  a  heathen  Emperor. 

At  first  all  was  joy ;  for  as  universally  as  Constantius 


460  LAST  BFFOET  OF  HEATHENISM.  [booa  m 

was  hated,  Julian  was  welcomed  as  a  deliverer.  Even 
the  Christians  joined  in  this  rejoiciag.  They  too  had 
found  the  arbitrary  government  of  the  last  few  years 
hard  enough  to  bear.  And  if  some  who  looked  deeper 
began  to  feel  anxiety,  they  consoled  themselves  by  the 
reflection  that  even  a  heathen  Emperor  could  not  in- 
jure the  Church  so  much  as  a  Christian  Emperor  who 
used  his  power  in  promoting  whatever  seemed  to  him 
at  the  time  to  be  orthodoxy  in  the  dogmatic  contro- 
versies of  the  age.  And  Julian  proclaimed,  not  the 
suppression  of  Christianity,  but  only  complete  religious 
liberty.'^'  He  himself  intended  to  be  a  heathen,  but  no 
Christian  should  be  disturbed  in  his  faith. 

Julian  was  certainly  thoroughly  in  earnest  in  this. 
To  be  a  persecutor  of  the  Church,  was  the  last 
thing  he  would  have  thought  of.  Besides,  he  was  much 
too  fully  persuaded  of  the  untruth  of  Christianity 
and  the  truth  of  Heathenism  to  persecute.  Julian  was 
an  enthusiast,  like  all  the  rhetoricians  and  philoso- 
phers who  surrounded  him.  He  regarded  himself 
as  called  by  a  divine  voice  to  the  great  work  of  restor- 
ing Heathenism,  and  this  was  from  the  beginning  avow- 
edly his  object.  And  he  was  no  less  firmly  convinced 
that  this  restoration  would  work  itself  out  without 
any  use  of  force;  as  soon  as  free  scope  was  given  to 
Heathenism  it  would,  by  its  own  powers,  overcome  Chris- 
tianity. If  the  heathen  would  only  cultivate  their 
religion  studiously,  perform  its  rites  zealously,  and  lead 
lives  well-pleasing  to  the  gods,  then  without  doubt 
the  Christians  would  become  converted,  and  recognize 
the  truth  of  Heathenism. 

The  Emperor  himself  was  evidently  in  all  respects  a 
heathen  from  sincere  conviction.    In  this  regard  at  least 


CHAP,  m.]        JULIAN'S  AUSTERITY  AND  PIETY.  461 

he  was  honest  and  no  hypocrite.  The  flagrant  volup- 
tuousness, which  had  corrupted  the  court,  was  ban- 
ished, and  a  large  number  of  useless  officials  dismissed.^ 
The  life  of  the  court  was  to  be  simple,  austere,  and 
pure.  Men  had  never  before  seen  an  Emperor  who 
conducted  himseK  with  such  simplicity,  whose  table 
was  so  economically  supplied,  and  who  knew  no  other 
employments  than  hard  work,  and  devoted  worship  of 
the  gods.  A  temple  was  built  in  the  palace,  and  there 
Julian  offered  a  daily  sacrifice.^*  Often  he  might  be 
seen  serving  at  the  sacrifice  himself,  carrying  the  wood 
and  plunging  the  knife  into  the  victim  with  his  own 
hand.^^  He  remembered  every  festival  which  should  be 
celebrated,  and  knew  how  to  observe  the  whole  half- 
forgotten  ritual  most  punctiliously. 

He  was  equally  zealous  in  performing  the  duties  of 
his  office  as  Pontifex  Maodmus,  Everywhere  he  revived 
the  ancient  worship  which  had  fallen  into  neglect. 
Here  a  closed  temple  was  re-opened,  there  a  ruined 
shrine  restored,  images  of  the  gods  were  set  up  again, 
and  festivals  which  had  ceased  to  be  celebrated,  were 
restored.  In  this  way,  Julian  was  certain.  Heathenism 
would  be  sure  to  renew  its  life.  He  expressly  rejected 
all  use  of  force.  At  the  beginning  of  his  reign  he 
wrote  to  Artabius,  one  of  the  provincial  governors,  that 
he  did  not  wish  the  Christians  to  be  unjustly  beaten 
and  killed;  and  in  a  letter  dated  from  Antioch,  and 
therefore  of  the  latter  part  of  his  reign,  he  forbids  the 
comDulsion  of  the  Christians  by  force  to  attend  the 
temples.  "  Blows  and  bodily  injuries,"  he  says,  "  are 
not  the  means  by  which  to  change  a  man's  convictions." 
To  him  the  Christian  religion  seemed  an  error  which 
deserved  pity,  not  hatred;  a  foolishness,  a  madness, 


162  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  ul 

which  indeed  must  be  cured  against  the  will  of  the 
patient.  "  Though  it  is  possible,"  he  afl&rms,  "  to  cure 
bodily  sicknesses  by  violent  operations,  yet  errors  con- 
cerning the  nature  of  God  cannot  be  destroyed  either 
by  fire  or  steel.  What  does  it  profit  if  the  hand  does 
sacrifice,  when  the  mind  condemns  the  hand  ?  It  is 
only  a  new  disguise  outwardly  applied,  not  a  change  of 
conviction."^  Who  would  not  agree  with  these  senti- 
ments ?  But  it  is  of  course  another  question  whether  or 
not  Julian  would  be  able  to  keep  within  the  limits  here 
so  truly  and  wisely  laid  down. 

Julian  certainly  did  not  wish  to  use  force,  yet  he  was 
much  pleased  when  any  one  became  convinced  of  the 
truth  of  Heathenism;  and  though  his  purpose  was  to 
leave  to  each  the  fullest  liberty  of  choice,  yet  he  must 
have  been  less  convinced  of  the  truth  of  his  own  posi- 
tion than  he  was,  to  have  refrained  from  striving  to  win 
over  others.  His  conduct  at  the  funeral  of  Constan- 
tius  was  characteristic.  He  left  to  the  Christians  per- 
fect liberty,  he  did  not  interfere,  though  in  many 
churches  the  plaint  over  the  death  of  the  Christian 
Emperor  became  a  complaint  against  his  heathen  suc- 
cessor; but  he  himself  went  through  the  burial  cere- 
monies in  honor  of  the  deceased  according  to  heathen 
ritual.  When  he  had  poured  out  the  libation  he  invited 
the  bystanders  to  follow  his  example.  Ihose  who  did 
so  were  cordially  greeted  by  him;  those  who  refused 
were  not  compelled,  they  were  free  to  do  as  they  chose, 
yet  the  friendly  smile  with  which  he  answered  their 
refusal  had  something  suspicious  in  it.  Of  course  it 
was  not  long  before  one  and  another  among  those  at 
court,  who  had  hitherto  been  zealous  Christians,  and 
perhaps  within  a  short  time  had  ardently  striven  in 


CHAP,  in.]         PEEVBRSIONS  TO  HEATHENISM.  463 

behalf  of  the  Nicene  or  the  Arian  views,  made  the  dis* 
covery  that  after  all  Heathenism  was  really  preferable 
to  Christianity.  They  •had  hardly  been  men,  had  it 
failed  to  be  so ;  and  the  enthusiastic  Julian  really  be- 
lieved that  their  conversion  was  his  work,  especially 
when  the  more  cunning  courtiers  managed  to  delay  a 
short  time,  and  allow  the  Emperor  to  declaim  at  great 
length  about  the  glory  of  the  ancient  religion,  before 
the  new  light  dawned  upon  them.  What  joy  he  expe- 
rienced each  time  that  one  of  the  more  illustrious  indi- 
viduals was  won  over  to  the  ancient  gods ;  and  though 
he  did  not  dismiss  from  his  court  any  Christian  solely 
for  religious  reasons,  it  was  yet  only  natural  that  those 
who  shared  his  views  should  stand,  in  the  most  intimate 
relations  with  him.  Soon  conversions  became  plentiful ; 
governors,  officials,  soldiers,  made  themselves  proficient 
in  the  ancient  cultus;  and  even  a  bishop,  Pegasius  of 
New  Ilium,  whom  Julian  had  previously  learned  to 
know  as  a  secret  friend  of  the  gods,  when  he  had 
been  the  Emperor's  guide  to  the  classic  sites  of  Troy, 
changed  his  religion,  and  from  a  Christian  bishop  be- 
came a  heathen  high-priest.^^  The  long-closed  doors 
of  the  temples  were  opened  anew  in  many  towns,  and 
the  altars  of  the  gods  now  smoked  again  where  their 
fires  had  long  been  extinguished.  Julian  really  ima- 
gined that  Heathenism  was  beginning  to  revive,  and  the 
temptation  became  very  great  to  assist  it  by  some  little 
devices  which  were  not  quite  honorable.  But  men,  and 
especially  enthusiasts,  only  too  easily  justify  bad  means 
by  good  ends.  For  instance,  it  was  a  favorite  plan  to 
put  an  image  of  a  god  by  the  side  of  the  Emperor's 
statue.  Those  who  paid  the  customary  reverence  to 
the  Emperor  might  easily  be  regarded  as  having  offored 


464  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  m 

worship  to  the  god ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  those  who 
did  not  bow  before  the  god  invited  the  suspicion  of  dis* 
loyalty  towards  the  Emperor.^   # 

In  the  army  this  policy  was  carried  still  further. 
Military  and  religious  ceremonies  had  always  been  min- 
gled, and  the  strictness  of  military  discipline  naturally 
limited  religious  liberty.  The  monogram  of  Christ, 
which  the  standards  had  borne  since  Constantine,  was 
banished,  and  its  place  was  taken  by  the  ancient  Roman 
S.  P.  Q.  R.^  When  the  soldiers  received  their  gratui- 
ties, a  portable  altar  was  placed  at  the  side  of  the  impe- 
rial throne,  and  near  the  altar  a  little  box  filled  with 
incense.  The  soldiers  were  ordered  to  come  forward 
one  by  one,  and  receive  each  his  congiarium.  Each  one 
as  he  approached  was  expected  to  take  a  few  grains  of 
incense,  and  throw  them  into  the  fire  on  the  altar.  The 
Christians  among  the  soldiers  held  back  and  delayed, 
but  the  ofl&cers  emphatically  assured  them  that  it  was  an 
entirely  innocent  ceremony,  since  there  was  no  image  on 
the  altar.  Most  of  them  allowed  themselves  to  be  per- 
suaded, and  did  as  they  were  bidden ;  a  few  preferred 
to  go  without  the  congiarium.  Afterwards  at  the  fes- 
tal banquet  the  Christian  soldiers  crossed  themselves  as 
was  their  wont.  Their  heathen  comrades  laughed,  and 
when  asked  the  reason  replied  mockingly :  "  We  laugh 
because  you  are  still  praying  to  Jesus  Christ  the  moment 
after  having  denied  him."  The  Christians  sprang  up 
in  horror,  now  that  they  perceived  the  snare  which  had 
been  set  for  them.  Many  of  them  rent  their  garments, 
and  ran  into  the  town,  cryii  g :  "  We  are  Christians ! 
Every  one  may  know  it  I  If  our  hands  have  denied, 
our  hearts  have  not ! "  A  crowd  collected  before  the 
imperial  palace.    Some  went  so  far  as  to  throw  down 


CfHAP.   n.]    RELIGIOUS  ORDEAI   FOR  THE  ARMY.  465 

at  the  Emperor's  feet  the  money,  which  they  were  said 
to  have  gained  by  denial.  The  Emperor  was  placed 
in  an  unfortunate  position.  His  purpose  had  not 
been  exactly  to  seduce  the  soldiers  into  open  denial  of 
their  faith ;  he  regarded  the  ceremony  perhaps  as  inno- 
cent, but  it  was  ambiguous  and  instituted  for  the  pur- 
pose of  gradually  accustoming  the  soldiers  to  cere 
monies  of  that  kind.  If  now  the  Emperor  should 
punish  these  tumultuous  soldiers,  it  might  look  like  a 
persecution,  and  Julian  did  not  wish  that.  If  he  left 
them  unpunished,  then  military  discipline  would  be  im- 
perilled. The  Emperor  arrested  and  condemned  some 
soldiers,  but  expressly  declared  that  this  was  not  be- 
cause they  were  Christians,  but  because  they  had  revolt- 
ed from  their  standards.  Nevertheless  all  Constanti- 
nople was  in  an  uproar.  Immense  crowds  accompanied 
the  soldiers  to  the  place  of  execution;  they  were  al- 
ready honored  as  martyrs.  Then  Julian  judged  it  best 
to  pardon  them.'^  But  the  consequences  of  the  event 
were  not  averted  by  this.  The  mistrust  of  the  Chris- 
tians was  now  awakened  against  the  Emperor,  and 
would  not  be  disarmed.  Julian  himself  was  hurried 
onward.  That  which  he  had  hitherto  not  intended, 
was  now  carried  out :  all  the  higher  officers  who  were 
Christians  were  removed  or  dismissed,  and  all  Christians 
were  rejected  from  the  service  of  the  court.'^  The  gulf 
which  separated  the  heathen  Emperor  from  his  Chris- 
tian subjects  had  become  visible. 

A  still  worse  influence  was  exercised  by  certain  laws 
which  Julian  enacted  ^^  in  order  to  correct  the  injustice 
of  his  predecessor,  but  which,  as  he  well  knew,  were 
certain  to  affect  the  Christians  most.  Under  the  pre- 
text of  impartial  justice,  these  laws  concealed  an  injury 


466  liAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  m. 

to  the  Church,  and  Julian  secretly  rejoiced  that  it  was 
so.  Under  Constantius  the  property  of  the  communes 
had  often  been  taken  from  them  and  arbitrarily  applied 
to  other  purposes.  Now  all  was  to  be  restored,  and 
that  without  any  compensation  to  those  now  in  posses- 
sion. The  property  concerned  had  been  partly  used  to 
meet  the  expenditure  of  the  Emperor,  but  also,  in  part, 
to  build  churches.  Temples  had  been  changed  into 
churches,  and  were  now  to  be  given  back  to  the  heathen 
cultus.  Temples  which  had  been  destroyed  were  to  be 
rebuilt,  or  their  estimated  value  repaid  out  of  the 
treasuries  of  the  churches.  Even  private  individuals 
who  had  bought  in  good  faith  the  temple-lands  were 
compelled  to  make  restitution.  Gold  and  gems  which 
had  formerly  ornamented  any  image  of  the  gods,  but 
now  adorned  chalices,  crosses,  and  evangelistaries  in  the 
churches,  were  to  be  broken  out  and  restored  to  their 
former  uses."  And  this  law  was  enforced  with  ruthless 
severity.  For  the  governors  knew  that  they  would 
thereby  gain  favor  with  the  Emperor,  and  the  heathen 
mob  already  began  to  help  here  and  there. 

Julian  not  only  rejoiced  in  this,  and  did  nothing  to 
soften  the  rigor  of  the  law,  but  he  even  expressly 
approved  of  it,  and  mockingly  said :  "  Indeed,  the  Gali- 
leans should  rejoice :  does  not  the  command  of  the  Gos- 
pel enjoin  them  to  suffer  evil  ?  "  **  On  the  part  of  the 
Christians,  fanaticism  began  to  blaze  up,  and  the  first 
blood  was  shed.  In  Doristera,  a  town  of  Thrace,  a 
Christian  church  had  been  changed  back  into  a  heathen 
temple;  idols  stood  once  more  where  the  cross  had 
been  placed.  On  the  eve  of  the  day  when  the  temple 
was  to  be  dedicated  with  a  great  heathen  festival,  a 
Christian  broke  into  the  chuTch  and  destroyed   the 


CHAP.  HI.]    HEATHENISM  NOT  REALLY  REVIVED.  467 

idols.  Then  he  gave  himself  up,  and  was  executed. 
The  Christians  honored  him  as  a  new  martyr. 

The  dream  of  a  restoration  of  Heathenism  neverthe- 
less soon  began  to  prove  itself  a  dream.  Though  now 
surrounded  by  heathen  only,  Julian  could  not  help 
I  feeling  that  he  was  really  isolated  in  their  midst.  He 
himself  was  naturally  a  mystic,  and  lived  in  his  ideals. 
His  Heathenism  was  one  purified  by  poetic  feeling. 
But  there  was  little  or  nothing  of  this  to  be  found  actu- 
ally existing.  His  heathen  friends  were  courtiers,  whc 
agreed  with  liim  without  inward  conviction ;  empty 
rhetoricians,  who  sought  only  the  glory  of  saying  fine 
things;  men  wholly  indifferent  and  destitute  of  reli- 
gion; or  merry  companions,  whose  first  object  was 
amusement,  and  who  were  glad  to  be  released  from  the 
restraints  of  Christianity,  but  not  under  the  penalty  of 
submitting  to  still  more  rigorous  restrictions  from  the 
Heathenism  of  their  ruler.  The  Emperor  was  far  from 
satisfied  with  his  adherents.  He  often  gave  them  severe 
lectures,  accused  them  of  being  cold  and  indifferent, 
and  blamed  their  license.  They  were  no  better  satisfied 
with  him.  He  was  far  too  serious  and  severely  moral 
for  their  tastes.  They  preferred  the  theatre  to  the 
temple,  they  liked  amusement  best,  and  found  the 
daily  attendance  at  worship  and  the  monotonous  cere- 
monies and  sacrifices  very  dull.  A  measurably  tolerant 
Chiistian  Emperor  would  doubtless  have  suited  them 
better  than  this  enthusiastically  pious  heathen.  Blinded 
as  Julian  was  by  his  ideal  views,  he  soon  could  not 
^  escape  the  knowledge  that  things  were  not  going  well. 
If  Heathenism  was  to  revive,  it  must  receive  new  life 
within.      The  restoration  must  be  also  a  reformation. 

Strangely  enough  Julian  felt  compelled  to  borroiff 


468  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  in. 

from  Chiistianity  the  ways  and  means  for  sucli  a  refor- 
mation. The  heathen  priests,  like  the  Christian,  were 
to  instruct  the  people,  and  exhort  them  to  holy  living. 
The  heathen,  like  the  Christians,  were  to  care  for  the 
poor.  "  If  our  religion,"  he  writes  to  the  high-priest 
of  Galatia,  "  does  not  make  the  progress  we  could  wish,  < 
the  blame  lies  with  those  who  profess  it.  The  gods 
have  done  great  things  for  us,  above  our  hopes  and 
petitions.  But  is  it  right  that  we  should  be  satisfied 
with  their  favors,  and  neglect  those  things  which  the 
impiety  of  the  Christians  has  cultivated,  their  hospi- 
tality to  strangers,  their  care  of  the  graves,  their  holi- 
ness of  life?  We  should  earnestly  seek  all  these 
things."  And  then  he  proceeds  to  give  the  high-priest 
directions  to  instruct  the  people,  to  purge  the  priest- 
hood from  unworthy  members,  to  prohibit  the  priests 
from  going  to  the  theatre  and  frequenting  the  taverns. 
Above  all,  he  was  to  provide  for  the  exercise  of  benevo- 
lence among  the  heathen  as  it  was  practised  among  the 
Christians.  Alms-houses  and  hospitals  were  to  be  built, 
and  the  needy  assisted.  The  Emperor  himself  appro- 
priated abundant  means,  but  the  villages  were  also  to 
be  urged  to  auxiliary  contributions.  "  We  ought  not," 
the  Emperor  says  in  conclusion,  "to  allow  others  to 
appropriate  our  virtues  while  the  shame  of  indolence 
falls  upon  us.  This  may  be  called  despising  the  wor- 
ship of  the  gods."  ^ 

While  new  strength  was  thus  to  be  infused  into 
Heathenism,  other  measures  were  adopted  to  weaken 
Christianity.  An  imperial  edict,  June  17,  A.  D.  362,*^  ^ 
forbade  the  Cliristians  to  act  as  teachers  of  the  national 
literature,  the  ancient  classics.  It  was,  the  Emperor 
explained,**  a  contradiction  for  Christians  to  expound 


CHAP  in.]   CHBISTIANS  CUT  OFF  FROM  CULTURE.  469 

Homer,  Thncydides,  or  Demosthenes,  when  they  re- 
garded them  as  godless  men  and  aliens.  He  would  not 
compel  them  to  change  their  convictions,  but  also  he 
could  not  permit  the  ancient  writers  to  be  expounded 
by  those  who  took  them  to  task  for  impiety.  "  If  ye," 
he  adds,  "  recognize  any  wisdom  in  the  ancients,  then 
prove  it  by  imitating  their  piety  towards  the  gods.  But 
if,  on  the  contrary,  you  believe  that  all  their  opinions 
are  false,  then  go  into  the  churches  of  the  Galileans,  and 
expound  Matthew  and  Luke."  It  is  true,  this  edict  pro- 
hibited the  Christians  only  from  teaching  the  national 
literature,  not  from  becoming  the  pupils  of  heathen 
teachers .**  But  this  would  necessarily  be  the  imme- 
diate consequence.  For  when  the  Christians  were  pre- 
vented from  teaching,  the  instruction  came  wholly  into 
the  hands  of  the  heathen,  and  thereby  gained  a  char- 
acter so  specifically  heathen,  and  came  into  so  avowed 
an  antagonism  to  Christianity,  that  Christians  could  no 
longer  be  even  hearers  at  such  lectures.  Thus  the 
consequences  of  the  edict  reached  much  farther  than 
its  immediate  scope.  It  cut  the  Christians  off  from  all 
culture,  and  became  to  them  an  actual  prohibition  of 
culture.  Thus  also  they  were  excluded  from  all  the 
higher  offices  which  required  education ;  they  were  ex- 
communicated from  the  society  of  educated  men.  This 
was  just  what  Julian  wished.  To  the  complainants  he 
answered:  "Keep  your  ignorance;  eloquence  is  ours. 
Your  doctrine  has  only  one  word :  Believe  I  Then  be 
content  with  faith."  *^  He  expressly  declared  that  the 
worshippers  of  the  Carpenter,  the  followers  of  the  fish- 
ermen,*^ had  no  claim  to  culture. 

This,  of  course,  was  not  a  persecution,  if  the  use  oi 
force  alone  makes  a  persecution,  yet  it  was  a  persecu* 


470  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  m 

tion,  and  in  a  sense  a  worse  one  than  any  which  went 
before.  Julian  tried  to  deprive  the  Christians  of  that 
which  should  be  common  to  all  men,  —  education ;  he 
disputed  their  right  to  the  intellectual  property  of  the 
nation.  They  were  really  no  longer  to  be  treated  as 
men.*'^  Julian  had  already  gone  as  far  as  this.  Never^ 
theless  he  had  to  confess  to  himself  that  the  restoration 
of  Heathenism  was  making  no  progress  worth  speaking 
of,  but  that  on  the  contrary  the  aversion  to  it  increased 
steadily.  And,  though  he  was  too  proud  to  pay  much 
regard  to  this,  yet  his  own  feelings  became  daily  more 
excited  and  imbittered.  He  found  himself  more  and 
more  isolated  in  the  world  to  which  he  had  tried  to 
present  the  best  thing  he  knew,  —  the  classic  heritage 
of  Greece,  —  only  to  discover  that  the  world  had  no 
taste  for  it.  He  spent  his  whole  strength,  he  sacrificed 
himself,  he  lived  only  for  the  Empire  over  which  Provi- 
dence had  made  him  lord,  and  yet  found  himself  alone 
in  his  endeavor.  Even  his  heathen  friends,  the  philoso- 
phers and  rhetoricians,  kept  at  a  distance.  He  had 
invited  them.  Very  few  came;  most,  and  those  the 
principal  ones,  excused  themselves.  Had  they  too  no 
longer  any  heart  in  the  matter,  concerning  which  he 
and  they  had  once  been  so  enthusiastic  at  Nicomedia 
and  Athens  ?  Or  did  they  already  despair  of  the  suc- 
cess of  his  work  ? 

With  such  thoughts  as  these,  Julian  journeyed  to 
Antioch,  in  Syria,  in  order  to  make  preparations  there 
for  the  great  campaign  he  purposed  to  make  against  the 
Persians.  There  new  disappointments  awaited  him. 
He  found  the  shrines  of  his  gods  forsaken  and  desolate. 
The  grove  of  Daphne  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city, 
once  a  famous  sanctuary  of  Apollo,  and  where  oracles 


CHAP.  m.J     GROVE  OF  DAPHNE  NEAR  ANTIOCH.  471 

had  been  imparted  at  the  sacred  spring,  was  in  a  deplor 
able  condition.  The  spring  was  filled  up,  the  temple  ir 
ruins.  In  the  grove  itself  was  a  Christian  chapel  in 
which  lested  the  bones  of  the  martyr  Babylas.  Julian 
commanded  the  immediate  restoration  of  the  temple, 
and  the  exhuming  of  the  martyr's  bones.  The  Chris- 
tians obeyed,  but  as  in  solemn  procession  they  carried 
the  relics  to  another  church,  Julian  could  not  help  hear- 
ing them  sing,  in  full  chorus,  the  words  of  the  Psalm 
(xcvii.  7)  :  "  Confounded  be  all  they  that  serve  graven 
images,  that  boast  themselves  of  idols."  *'  Starting  up 
in  a  rage,  Julian  ordered  some  soldiers  to  attack  the 
procession.  They  arrested  some  of  the  Christians,  and 
he  was  about  to  order  their  execution,  but  came  to  him- 
self, and  discharged  them.  His  noble  nature  showed 
itself  once  more ;  he  did  not  wish  to  persecute. 

The  temple  of  Apollo  was  restored  with  the  greatest 
splendor.  Julian  went  there  to  offer  a  sacrifice  to  the 
god.  He  expected  to  find  a  multitude  of  worshippers, 
but  no  one  even  brought  oil  for  a  lamp  or  incense  to 
burn  in  honor  of  the  deity.  Only  an  old  man  ap- 
proached to  sacrifice  a  goose.^  It  did  not  help  matters 
when  Julian  gave  the  Antiochians  a  long  lecture  on  the 
subject  of  this  neglect  of  the  god.**  It  only  exposed 
him  the  more  to  their  biting  gibes.  They  called  him 
"  the  Bear  "  because  of  his  long  beard ;  they  scoffed  at 
the  frequency  of  his  offerings,  saying  that  it  was  no 
wonder  that  meat  was  getting  dear,  when  the  Emperor 
himself  was  the  butcher.*^  Shortly  afterwards,  the  newly 
restored  temple  burned  down  in  the  night.*^  Now  the 
Emperor's  wrath  knew  no  bounds.  He  ascribed  the 
guilt  to  the  Christians ;  and  although  the  temple,  as  is 
probable,  caught  fire  through  the  fault  of  a  heathen 


472  LAST  EFFOKT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  m 

plulosopher,  who  carried  a  dedicatory  lamp  about  in 
it  without  due  precautions,^  many  Christians  were 
arrested  and  tortured.  The  Church  had  its  martyrs 
once  more ;  and  Julian,  discontented  with  himself  and 
the  wliole  world  besides,  advanced  to  new  measures. 
The  cathedral  of  Antioch  was  closed  and  its  property 
confiscated.*®  Julian  decreed  that  the  Christians,  whose 
God  had  forbidden  them  to  kill,  should  not  be  intrusted 
with  any  office  with  which  judicial  functions  were  con- 
nected.^ He  explained  that  the  Galileans  were  not  to 
be  persecuted,  but  pious  men  were  to  be  preferred. 
This  was  enough  to  exclude  the  Christians  from  all 
offices."  Day  and  night  the  sacrifices  smoked,  and  their 
flesh  was  distributed  to  the  soldiers.  Some  of  them 
murmured  at  it.  Julian  had  them  arrested  and  exe- 
cuted.*^ In  front  of  the  great  fountain  in  Antioch,  an 
altar  was  erected,  and  the  spring  was  solemnly  dedicated 
to  all  the  gods.  Then  with  this  water  they  sprinkled 
the  market,  and  the  provisions  which  were  brought 
thither,  the  meat  and  the  vegetables;  and  Julian  en- 
joyed the  thought  that  now  the  Christians  could  not  eat 
or  drink  any  thing  without  polluting  themselves  with 
the  water  consecrated  to  the  idols.^  It  seemed  as  if  the 
times  of  Galerius  had  come  back.  Worse  still  was  the 
Christians'  lot  in  the  provinces.  In  many  places  the 
heathen  gathered,  and  plundered  and  killed  the  Chris- 
tians. Julian  everywhere  took  the  side  of  the  heathen. 
"  What  does  it  matter,"  said  he,  "  is  it  then  a  crime  if 
one  Greek  kills  ten  Galileans?"**  Of  course  such 
words,  from  the  Emperor,  were  the  signal  for  fresh 
persecutions;  and  Julian  permitted  it  to  be  so. 

More   and  more   heavy  became   the   atmosphere  of 
Antioch.    What  happened  was  exaggerated  by  report 


CHAP,  in.]  JULIAN'S  lOREBODINGS.  473 

Every  night,  it  was  narrated,  the  Emperor  had  some 
Christians  executed,  and  in  the  morning  their  bodies 
floated  down  the  Orontes.**  Julian  himself  became  more 
and  more  restless.  He  hurried  from  temple  to  temple, 
brought  sacrifice  after  sacrifice;  he  knelt  for  hours 
before  his  gods  and  covered  their  statues  with  kisses. 
Then  at  night  he  sat  in  the  silence  at  his  writing-table, 
and  gave  vent  to  his  bitterness  and  disgust  with  every 
thing.  Then  he  wrote  his  works  full  of  brilliant  wit, 
thought  out  and  expressed  with  Greek  refinement,  but 
full  of  bitterest  hatred  especially  against  the  Galileans 
and  their  Carpenter's  Son.  Writing  did  not  make  him 
calmer,  but  only  more  restless  and  bitter. 

Finally,  his  immense  preparations  for  the  campaign 
against  the  Persians  were  finished.  Julian  started, 
after  finally  setting  over  the  Antiochians  a  wretch  as 
governor,  with  the  remark,  that  the  man  did  not  deserve 
to  be  a  governor,  but  they  deserved  to  be  governed  by 
such  a  one.^  The  campaign  was  to  be  like  that  of  a 
second  Alexander.  Julian  purposed  ridding  the  Empire 
forever  of  its  most  dangerous  enemy.  The  heathen 
set  all  their  hopes  on  this  campaign.  If  the  Emperor 
returned  victorious,  then  the  victory  of  Heathenism 
was  assured.  The  Christians  were  silent.  The  thrill 
as  of  an  expected  judgment  of  God  went  through  the 
world.  When  the  rhetorician  Libanius  scornfully  asked 
a  Christian  priest,  "  What  is  your  Carpenter's  Son  doing 
now?"  the  other  replied,  "He  is  now  making  a  coffin 
for  your  Emperor."  *''  Julian,  too,  felt  gloomy  fore- 
bodings. His  ever-increasing  supers titiousness  sought 
for  signs,  and  saw  signs,  in  every  thing.  Now  various 
deformities  in  the  sacrificial  victims  filled  his  soul  with 
anxiety,  or  his  horse  shied,  or  he  discovered  some  othei 
evil  omen. 


474  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  m 

This  mood  passed  as  soon  as  he  stood  at  the  head 
of  his  army.  The  commander  awoke  within  him  once 
more.  He  had  sketched  a  bold  plan,  and  at  first  all 
went  according  to  his  wishes.''®  The  legions  advanced 
victoriously  Eastward  as  far  as  the  Tigris.  Ctesiphon 
was  taken  after  a  brilliant  passage  at  arms.  Prudent 
men  among  the  Emperor's  counsellors  now  advised  him 
to  be  content  with  these  fruits  of  victory,  but  Julian's 
restless  spirit  urged  him  forward.  Just  as  he,  living 
wholly  in  reminiscences  of  the  past,  had  taken  the 
ancient  heroes  for  his  examples,  so  he  now  determined 
to  imitate  Alexander.  In  order  to  exclude  all  thoughts 
of  retreat,  he  burned  his  fleet  upon  the  Tigris.  Then 
the  army  was  compelled  to  advance.  They  marched 
on  and  on  into  the  great  plains.  The  enemy  was  not 
to  be  seen;  the  Persian  light  horse  retreated  further 
and  further.  Thus  the  position  of  the  Romans  became 
each  day  more  critical ;  they  were  continually  receding 
from  their  bases  of  supply.  The  soldiers  began  to 
murmur.  Vainly  did  Julian  represent  to  them  in  elo- 
quent words  that  to  retreat  was  much  more  perilous 
than  to  advance,  vainly  he  showed  them  that  victory 
was  near.  If  the  enemy  had  been  in  sight  before  them, 
these  veteran  legions,  which  he  had  led  to  victory  on 
the  Rhine,  had  followed  him.  But  here  in  the  hot 
sandy  plains  they  could  not  endure  dragging  themselves 
onward  day  by  day  without  seeing  a  single  foe.  With 
a  heavy  heart  Julian  was  forced  to  command  a  retreat. 
The  Persians  had  waited  for  this  moment.  Their  troops 
of  light  horse  attacked  the  Romans  on  every  side. 
Ever  skirmishing  by  day  and  never  resting  at  night, 
poorly  supplied  with  provisions,  —  thus  the  legions  had 
to  make  their  way  back. 


CHAP,  in.]  JULIAN'S  DEATH.  475 

Julian  could  not  conceal  Irom  himsi3lf  that  his  posi- 
tion was  extremely  critical.  How  discouraged  he  must 
have  felt  as  after  the  ceaseless  efforts  of  the  day,  he 
lay  sleepless  in  his  tent !  What  had  become  of  all  his 
dreams  of  the  restoration  of  the  ancient  glory  of  Greece 
and  Rome !  One  morning  he  sent  for  the  priests,  and 
said  that  in  the  night  the  Genius  of  Rome  had  appeared 
to  him,  just  as  once  before  in  Gaul  during  the  night  be- 
fore the  day  on  which  the  soldiers  had  proclaimed  him 
Augustus;  only  now  the  horn  of  plenty  which  the 
Genius  bore  was  reversed,  not  held  on  high  as  before. 
He  had  sprung  up  to  detain  the  vision,  but  the  Genius 
had  left  the  tent  and  quickly  disappeared.  The  priests 
offered  sacrifices,  sought  for  signs,  but  finally  had  no 
other  counsel  to  give  except  to  avoid  a  battle  if  pos- 
sible. But  how  was  this  possible,  when  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  enemies?  That  very  moment  was  heard 
again  the  Persian  battle-cry.  Julian  put  himself  at  the 
head  of  the  legions,  and  once  more  Roman  valor  sus- 
tained its  reputation,  once  more  fortune  smiled  on  him. 
With  desperate  courage  the  legions  pressed  forward 
and  gained  a  complete  victory ;  with  shouts  of  joy  they 
escorted  the  Emperor  to  his  tent.  But  scarcely  had  he 
laid  aside  his  armor  to  rest,  when  again  came  an  attack 
of  the  Persians  from  another  quarter.  Without  putting 
on  his  armor,  Julian  hastened  to  the  scene  of  battle. 
Vainly  his  friends  strove  to  restrain  him :  in  advance  of 
all  the  rest  he  charged  the  enemy.  They  had  already 
begun  to  waver,  when  a  spear  struck  the  Emperor  in 
the  thigh.  With  a  loud  cry  he  sank  to  rlie  ground. 
Carried  to  his  tent,  he  lived  a  few  hours  ^nger,  and 
died  in  the  night  of  June  26,  A.  D.  363.^ 

At  least  this  was  his,  a  hero's  death,  one  worthy  of 


476  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEATHENISM.  [book  m 

an  ancient  Roman.  It  seemed  as  though  the  old  world 
was  in  him  to  arise  once  more  in  the  form  of  a  hero,  and 
then  utterly  perish.  Julian's  fate  was  deeply  tragical. 
Richly  gifted,  daring  and  courageous,  a  born  general, 
eloquent  in  speech,  full  of  spirit,  a  noble  nature,  lord  of 
himself,  and  ready  to  sacrifice  all  for  his  country,  what 
might  he  not  have  been!  What  might  he  not  have 
done  for  the  Empire!  But  all  these  rich  gifts  were 
turned  to  destruction,  for  himself  and  for  the  Empire, 
because  failing  to  recognize  the  ways  by  which  God  had 
been  leading  the  nations,  he  attempted  to  turn  back  the 
current  of  history :  because,  possessed  with  the  delusion 
of  Heathenism,  he  tried  to  force  it  upon  the  Empire, 
after  the  world  had  already  attained  the  higher  light, 
Christianity.  The  cry  with  which  Julian  fell  is  vari- 
ously given.  Some  say  it  was:  "Nazarene,  thou  hast 
conquered ! "  others :  "  Sun  "  (Julian  was  particularly 
devoted  to  the  worship  of  the  sun-god),  "thou  hast 
betrayed  me  !  "  ^  Both  sources  ascribe  to  him  the  cry 
of  a  soul  undeceived ;  and,  whatever  the  words  may 
have  been,  his  thoughts  must  have  been  of  this  nature. 
Continuous  disappointment,  this  was  the  punishment 
which  Julian  had  to  bear  for  his  offence.  For  was  it 
not  his  own  fault,  that  he  was  deceived,  and  continued 
to  deceive  himself  and  others?  Filled  with  youthful 
enthusiasm  he  hoped  to  see  the  glory  of  the  ancient 
world  revived,  and  yet  all  his  labor  and  zeal  did  not 
avail  to  kindle  one  spark  of  true  life  in  those  burnt- 
out  ashes.  He  was  deluded  in  holding  that  the  antique 
world,  in  whose  behalf  he  was  so  enthusiastic,  was  still 
capable  of  life.  He  did  not  mean  to  persecute,  he 
meant  only  to  give  freedom;  and  yet  at  last  he  was 
driven  to  act  as  a  tyrant  and  a  persecutor  of  the 


CHAP.  ni.l  JULIAN'S  FAILURE.  477 

Church.  He  was  deluded  in  supposing  that  he  could 
turn  the  world  back  again  without  the  use  of  force. 
After  Christianity  had  once  gained  the  victory,  every 
form  of  opposition  to  it  must  necessarily  end  in  being 
Anti-Christian.  Julian's  intention  at  first  was  to  be 
simply  not  a  Christian,  a  heathen,  but  against  his  will 
he  was  more  and  more  forced  into  Anti-Christian  an- 
tagonism to  the  Church.  His  life  became  a  contest 
between  himself  and  the  Nazarene.  This  he  felt,  this 
was  the  cause  of  his  restlessness,  of  his  bitterness  and 
his  deep  anxiety.  He  called  for  a  judgment  of  God, 
and  it  came  in  the  plains  beyond  the  Tigris. 

Even  if  the  fatal  spear  had  not  struck  him  there,  yet 
his  part  had  been  played  to  the  end.  Returning  with 
a  defeated  army,  he  would  not  only  have  had  to  renounce 
all  thoughts  of  restoring  Heathenism,  but  would  have 
had  difficulty  in  maintaining  his  position  on  the  throne. 
Athanasius  would  have  been  right  in  any  case.  When 
during  the  reign  of  Julian,  the  friends  of  the  illustrious 
teacher  expressed  their  anxiety  and  fear,  he  responded 
onlj i^^' Nubecula  est^  transihit f  ^^  —  "It  is  only  a  little 
cloud,  it  will  pass  I "  ^^  Heathenism  was  to  give  a  proof 
that  its  life  was  exhausted.  That  proof  was  now  given. 
The  re-action  under  Julian  was  its  last  effort ;  after  that 
failed,  Heathenism  collapsed  all  the  more  rapidly.  In 
Julian,  ancient  Heathenism  fell,  crying  out :  "  Nazarene, 
thou  hast  conquered!"  The  victory  of  Christianity 
over  Heathenism  was  complete. 


Was  the  victory  pure  and  pertect?  Yes,  looking 
back  over  the  whole  conflict,  we  may  say  that  this  vic- 
tory was  the  purest  ever  won.    For  it  was  won  by  wit- 


478  LAST  EFFORT  OF  HEAIHENISM.  [book  m 

nessing  and  enduring,  by  loving  and  suffering  by  pour- 
ing out  innocent  blood.  But  what  is  pure  in  this  sinf  a] 
world  ?  Even  the  development  of  the  Church  was  not 
immaculate,  even  there  sin  intrudes,  though  the  Lord 
governs  it,  and  in  spite  of  human  sin,  is  guiding  it  to 
the  goal  of  perfection.  It  is  sorrowful  to  see  tliat 
already  were  sown  the  first  seeds  of  errors,  which  in 
course  of  time  would  grow  and  bring  forth  other  and 
different  conflicts.  During  the  conflict  with  Heathenism 
a  legal  element  obtained  a  footing  in  the  Church.  This 
was  later  to  pervert  Christ's  institution  of  grace  more 
and  more  into  a  governmental  institution.  Already  was 
laid  the  foundation  of  a  hierarchy  which  in  the  course 
of  the  centuries  was,  it  is  true,  to  render  the  Church 
powerful  and  glorious,  but  also  to  put  the  Lord  Jesus 
himself  into  the  background.  Already  a  worldly  ele- 
ment had  penetrated  into  the  Church.  In  the  time  of 
peace  just  beginning,  this  element  was  to  enter  more  and 
more  and  to  render  the  Church  itself  worldly.  Though 
Church  and  State  through  Constan tine's  momentous 
achievement  had  joined  hands  to  work  together,  ^yet  a 
terrible  series  of  conflicts  was  to  come  between  the  two 
powers,  struggles  which  held  centuries  in  suspense. 
The  conflict  with  external  Heathenism  was  over,  the 
struggle  with  the  Heathenism  in  the  Church  was  to 
take  its  place.  For  though  outwardly  conquered, 
Heathenism  was  not  yet  completely  subdued  within; 
but  as  in  each  of  us  "  the  old  man  "  perpetually  fights 
against  "  the  new  man,"  so  in  the  history  of  the  Church 
the  ancient  Heathenism  is  ever  rising  from  the  depths 
of  the  natural  man  to  do  battle  against  the  new  life  of 
Christianity.  This  conflict  is  not  ended.  The  history 
of  the  Church  is  only  the  story  of  this  conflict.    There- 


CHAP,  ra.]        THE  CONFLICT  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  479 

fore  the  peace  which  the  Church  won  is  as  yet  nc  per- 
fect peace,  but  only  marks  a  new  phase  of  the  struggle, 
which  is  not  yet  fought  out.  Indeed,  to-day  we  are  in 
the  midst  of  it;  for  stronger  almost  than  ever,  the 
heathen  spirit  in  modern  guise  is  wrestling  against 
Christian  thought  and  life,  and  it  almost  seems  as  if  the 
questions  of  the  time  should  be  gathered  up  into  the 
question:  "Shall  we  remain  Christians,  or  become 
heathen  again?" 

May  then  these  pictures  from  the  past  heroic  age  of 
the  Church  serve  as  instructive  illustrations  for  to-day. 
May  we  above  all  learn  from  them,  that  in  the  conflict 
which  we  have  to  wage  only  one  thing  is  victorious,  — 
faith,  living  faith,  confessing  with  joy,  working  by  love, 
and  enduring  in  hope.  In  this  faith  we,  together  with 
the  confessors  and  martyrs,  look  forward  to  a  victorj 
other  than  that  which  they  won,  the  victory  which  the 
Lord  will  bring  in  His  great  day.  That  victory  will  be 
wholly  pure,  wholly  perfect.  After  that  victory  comes 
no  more  conflict,  but  eternal  peace. 


NOTES. 


BOOK  I.,   CHAPTER  I. 

[Kotes  added  by  tTie  translators  are  enclosed  in  brackets.] 

1,  Eusebius,  H.  Eccl.,  iv.  26.  Melito,  addressing  the  Emperofi 
■ays  :  "  Our  philosophy  first  flourished  among  the  barbarians,  but 
having  flowered  among  the  nations  under  your  government  during 
the  glorious  reign  of  Augustus  your  ancestor,  it  became,  especially  to 
your  dominion,  an  auspicious  blessing.  For  since  that  time  the 
Roman  power  has  grown  to  greatness  and  splendor.  Whose  desired 
successor  you  have  become,  and  will  be,  together  with  your  son,  ii 
you  preserve  that  philosophy  which  was  the  foster  sister  of  the 
Empire,  and  began  its  existence  with  Augustus"  (r^g  ^aatXeiag  t^v 
avvTpoijfov  Koi  at}vap^afj£vijv  kvyovaT(f>  i^Lkoao<l>iav).  2.  De  Virtut.  et  Leg., 
§  7.  3.  [Epigr.  i.  67,  xiii.  3.  Merivale,  Hist,  of  the  Romans  under 
the  Empire,  vi.  232,  sq. ;  Norton,  Evidences  of  Gen.  of  the  Gospels, 
i.  50,  n.;  Ed.  Rev.,  cxxxix.  6,  1874.  Pliny,  Ep.  ix.  11.  For  the 
value  of  the  sesterce  see  Marquardt  u.  Mommsen,  H'dbuch  d.  rom. 
Alterthiimer,  v.  70;  D»  Champagny,  Les  C^sars  du  S°  Si^cle,  i.  37, 
469,  sq.]  4.  [iii.  Eleg.  13.  59-60.]  6.  [Germ.  37.]  6.  Cf.,  for  the 
entire  chapter,  especially:  Friedlander;  Darstellungen  aus  d.  Sitten- 
geschichte  Roms;  Boissier,  La  religion  romaine  d'Auguste  aux 
Antonins,  Paris,  1874  [2d  ed.,  1878] ;  [Marquardt  u.  Mommsen, 
H'dbuch  d.  rom.  Alterthumer,  Bd.  vi. ;  Fisher,  Beginnings  of  ChriS' 
tianity;  von  DoUinger,  Gentile  and  Jew  in  the  Courts  of  the  Temple 
of  Christ;  Merivale,  History,  c.  liv. ;  De  Champagny,  Les  Cesars, 
T.  iii.,  iv..  Tableau  du  monde  romaine].  7.  [Friedlander,  iii.  487.] 
8  SaU  17.  9.  Adv.  Colotem.,  c.  31.  10.  [Hist.  vi.  64.]  11.  Suet. 
Aug  ,  0.  35  12.  [Boissier,  i.  4,  sq.;  Marq.  u.  Ikiomm.,  vi.  5,  aq.]  18. 
De  Anim.,  c.  39;  ad  Nat.,  ii.  11.  These  names  are  to  be  found  in 
the  Indigiti\menta,  or  registers.  They  are  indeed  but  epithets  of  the 
Deity,  and  ahow  very  plainly  the  abstract  character  of  religion  among 

81 


482  NOTES.  [book  l 

the  Romans,  who  lacked  fancy,  and  whose  entire  nature  was  tho^ 
oughly  practical.  14.  Cato,  de  re  rust,  passim.  15.  Pro  df  m.,  1.  18 
Cf.  Boissier:  la  relig.  rom.,  i.  12  (Ist  ed.).    17.    De  bell.  Gall.,  vi.  17. 

18.  Hist,  nat.,  vi.  22.  19.  Adv.  gentes,  vi.  7;  "Civitas  onmiuja 
numinum  cultrix."  20.  Macrobius,  Sat.,  iii.  9,  7.  [Marq.  u.  Momm., 
H'dbuch  Bd.  vi.,  21.]  21.  Dion,  li.  16.  22.  Jos.>  de  bell.  Jud., 
V  38.  Philo,  de  Virtut.  et  Leg.,  40.  23.  Corp.  inter,  lat.,  iii.  75. 
:»4.  Letronne,  Inscr.  de  I'Egypte,  i.  206.  26.  Orelli,  1993.  26.  Orelli, 
2047,  5909  27.  Ann.  xv.  44.  28.  Ov.  Fast.,  iii.  525;  Am.  iu.  13; 
Hor.,  Od.  iii.  18.  29.  Amphitr.  ii.  2,  211  [840].  30.  Orelli,  4859 
[ii.  351].  31.  iii.  46.  32.  Non  posse  suaviter  vivi  sec.  Epic,  121 
[xxi.;  Goodwin:  Plutarch's  Mor.,  ii.  191].  33.  [Marq.  u.  Momm., 
vi.  438 ;  Wliite  and  Riddle,  Diet.  2,098 ;  Friedl. ,  iii.  493.  ]  34.  Cf .  Vano, 
de  ling,  lat.,  vii.  2 ;  Capitol.  Marc.  Aurel.,  c.  4.  35.  [Telamo,  Ribbeck, 
p.  44;  Boissier,  i.  49.]  36.  [Sallust,  Cat.  51, 52.  Merivale:  Conversion 
of  the  Rom.  Emp.,  25,  187,  sq.]  37.  Lucret.,  i.  62-101.  38.  [Nat 
Hist.,  ii.  7  (5);  xxviii.  1  (2).]    39.  Antiq.  Rom.,  ii.  67.    40.  Geog.,  i. 

19.  41.  [Aug.,DeCiv.  Dei,  vi.  10.]  42.  [16.,  vi.  5.]  43.  [Hypot.,  iii. 
2,  sq.]  44.  [Geog.,  xvi.  35  (761).]  46.  [Apol.  17.]  46.  Plin.,  »at. 
Hist.,  xxviii.  2  (4).  47.  Suet.,  Aug.,  c.  70,  90,  91.  48.  [Sat.,  ii.  149.] 
49.  Hist.  iii.  20.  60.  Instit.,  ii.  2  [?].  51.  Tac.,  Ann.,  vi.  12.  52. 
Dion,  Ix.  23.  63.  Suet.,  Claudius,  c.  22.  64.  Suet.,  Nero,  c.  56.  56. 
An  inscription  styles  Vespasian :  conservator  ceremoniarum  publico- 
rumjSLndresUtutorcBdiumsacrarum.  Or.,  2364.  56.  Letronne,  Inscj. 
de  I'Egypte,  i.  241.  67.  Nat.  Hist.,  ii.  7  (5).  68.  Pitra,  Spicileg. 
Solesm.,  ii.  p.  xli.  69.  [^ApocolocyntosiSy  lit.,  pumpkin ification.  Cf. 
Meriv.,  Hist.  Rom.  Emp.,  v.  601;  West.  Rev.,  July,  1867,  p.  49,  sq.] 
80.  Ovid,  Ep.  ex  Ponto,  i.  37-40;  Juvenal  [iii.  60-90,  vi.  399];  Tacit., 
Hist.,  i.  22;  Minucius  Felix  Octav.,21.  61.  De  leg.,  ii.  8.  62.  Hist 
XXV.  1 ;  Neu  quis  in  publico  sacrove  loco,  novo  aut  extemo  ritu  sacri- 
ficaret.  63.  lb.,  xxxix.  16.  64.  Corp.  inscr.  lat.,  i.  196.  66.  pion, 
i.  16,  xliii.  2.]  66.  Orelli,  4737.  67.  Bull,  de  I'inst.  arct.,  1864,  p. 
164.  68.  Inscr.  de  I'Algerie,  8712.  Cf.  Or.,  7395.  69.  [Friedl.,  ii.  204; 
Fisher,  Beginnings  of  Christ,  65,  n.]  70.  [Tusc.  Disp.,  i.  11.]  71. 
[Ep.  Iii.].  72.  [Ale,  ii.  14  (condensed  and  paraphrased);  Homer,  11., 
V.  127;  Cf.  Plato,  Rep.,  x.  618,  Jowett,  transl.,  ii.  461.]  73.  [Ph«do, 
85;  Jowett,  i.  434.]  74.  Propert.,  iv.  1.  76.  [1225-«;  Plumptre, 
Tiig.  of  Soph.,  105,  435.  Cf.  in  Cic.  Scr.,  ed.  Klotz.,  iv.  3,  380;  Inc. 
Auctor.  Consol.,  36.]  76.  [II.,  xxiv.  527-8.]  77.  [Bergk,  Poet  Lyr., 
Grsec,  p.  1064  (Fragm.  Adesp.,  97);  cf.  Stobaei  Florileg.,  ed.  Meineke, 
IV.  1C2  (P.  K.);  Nagelsbach  n.  hom.  Theol.,  228;  Friedl.,  iii.  651.^ 
f8.  [De  Ira,  iii.  15.    Cf.  Lactant  Inst,  iii.  18,  19.]    79.  [Odyss.,  xL 


CHAP.  I.]  NOTES.  488 

488.]  80.  [Od.,  Ivi.  (Analecta,  ed.  Brunc,  i.  112);  Campbell's  Eng; 
Poets,  xii.  47.]  81.  Cf.,  e.g.,  Virgil,  ^n.  vi.  734.  82.  Kep.  vi.  31; 
Tusc,  i.  31  [Cf.  Cic.  Scr.,  ed.  Klotz,  iv.  3,  f  381].  83.  [Ep.  Mor.,  120, 
14  (breve  hospitiiim) ;  ib.,  102,  26  (Dies  iste  .  .  .  aeteriii  na.talis).] 
84.  [De  Is.  et  Osir.,  ed.  Reiske,  vii.  505;  Goodwin,  iv.  135-6.]  85. 
Inscr.  lat.,  ii.  1877.  Cf.  Withrow,  Catacombs  of  Rome,  435,  sq,  86. 
Orelli,  6674.  87.  Nat.  Hist.,  vii.  55.  88.  Lucret.,  iii.  37  [840-2]. 
89.  Non  posse  suav.  vivi  sec.  Epic. ;  [Goodwin,  ii.  194.  Cf .  Trench, 
Lectures  on  Plutarch,  p.  117.]  90.  Cf.  Zeller,  Philos.  d.  Griechen,  iii. 
],  740.]  91  Agric,  46.  [Cf.  Seneca,  Ep.,  63,  16.]  92.  [De  Clem.,  i. 
6;  De  Benef.,  i.  10;  Ep.  97.]  93.  [Contra  Stoicos,  ed.  Reiske,  x. 
436;  Goodwin,  iv.  408.  Cf.  Animine  an  Corp.  A£i.,  1.]  94.  [Cf.  Bois- 
sier,  i.  288,  n.J  95.  Strabo,  in  Jos.  Antiq.,  xiv.  7,  2.  96.  [Philo,  in 
Flac3um,  §  8.]  97.  [Cf.  Fisher,  Beg.  of  Christ.,  67,  sq. ;  Schurer,Neu- 
test.  Zeitgesch.,  §  31;  Friedl.,  iii.  506,  sq.  ;  De  Champagny,  Rome  et 
la  Jud^e,  c.  iv.]  98.  [Juv.,  iii.  13-16,  vi.  426-31;  Martial,  Epigr.,  xii. 
57.]  99.  Jos.,  Antiq.,  xiii.  8.  4;  xiv.  10. 11-12.  100.  Jos.,  Antiq.,  xii. 
3.  1 ;  Philo,  leg.  ad  Caium,  §  23.  [Corn  is  not  mentioned  in  these 
passages.]  101.  In  almost  every  city  there  was  a  storehouse  for  the 
sacred  things  deposited  by  the  Jewish  people.  Philo,  de  Monarchia, 
ii.  3.  After  some  wavering  the  Roman  government  sanctioned  the 
transportation  of  these  offerings  to  Jerusalem.  102.  Philo,  de  Mon., 
ii.  1;  Josephus  (de  bell.  Jud.,  vi.  9,  ^)  estimates  the  number  of  visit- 
ors at  the  Feast  of  the  Passover,  including  those  belonging  to  the 
city  of  Jerusalem,  at  2,700,200.  103.  [Tacit.,  Hist.,  v.  2-3.]  104.  [Ib., 
V.  4.]  105.  xiv.  105-6.  106.  Tacit.,  Hist.,  v.  4.  107.  [Sat.  i.  5.  100.] 
108.  [Hor.,  Sat.,  i.  9.  70;  Juv.,  xiv.  104;  Mart.,  Epigr.,  vii.  82.  6;  xi. 
95.  2,  4,  6;  vii.  30.  4;  Petr.,  S.,  68.  See  also  Farrar,  Life  of  St.  Paul, 
Am.  ed.,  i.  667,  and  ref.]  109.  [De  Sup.,  ed.  Haase,  iii.  427;  Ap. 
Aug.  de  Civ.  Dei,  vi.  11  .]  110.  Jos.,  Apion,  ii.  40:  "  There  is  no  city 
of  the  Greeks  or  of  the  barbarians,  nor  any  nation  whatsoever, 
whither  our  cuf  tom  of  resting  on  the  Sabbath  has  not  come,  and  by 
which  our  fasto,  and  lighting  up  lamps,  and  many  of  our  prohibi- 
tions as  to  our  food,  are  not  observed." 


CHAPTER  n. 

I  Ep.,  58,  8-11,  90,  27,  et  al.  2.  [Cf.  Lightfoot,  Phillppians,  268 
$q,;  Hurst  and  Whiting,  Seneca's  Essays,  32,  sq.  and  ref. ;  Fisher,  169; 
Boissier,  ii.  52-104.]    3.  De  Ira,  ii.  9.     4.  [Nigrinus,  15.  |     5.  Pr»t 


484  NOTES.  |>ooK  1 

8.  [On  this  chap.  cf.  Tholuck's  Essay  on  the  Isatur*  and  Moral  Infln* 
ence  of  Heathenism,  transl.  by  Professor  Emerson,  Bib.  Repos.,  voL 
ii. ;  Fisher,  chap.  vi. ;  ib.,  note  and  references,  p.  197;  Pressense,  Chris- 
tian Life  and  Practice  in  the  Early  Church,  transl.  by  Annie  Har- 
wood-Holmden,  Book  iii. ;  Schaff,  Hist.  Ap.  Ch.,  Bk.  ii.  c.  1;  Hist, 
of  Ch.  Church,  c.  v.,  §  86,  sq.,  and  references;  Lecky,  Hist,  of  Europ. 
Morals  from  Augustus  to  Charlemagne;  Schmidt,  Essai  historique  sur 
la  society  civile  dans  le  monde  romain  et  sur  sa  transformation  par  le 
Christianisme ;  and  other  works  referred  to  in  Chap.  i.  n.  6.]  7.  Atheri. 
Delpnosoph.,  xiii.  34.  8.  [Rep.,  viii.  563;  Jowett,  ii.  401.]  Cf.  Cic,  de 
Republ.,  i.  43.  9.  Poet.,  15.  10.  Xenoph.,  (Econ.,  iii.  12.  11.  Contra 
Neseram  sub  fin.  12.  Plut.,  Pericl.,  24.  13.  Athen.,  xiii.  583.  14. 
Id.,  xiii.  583,  585  [591,  500].  15.  [Pint.,  Yit.  PiOm.,  22;  cf.  Thes. 
cud:  Rom.  sub.  fin.  (vii.  ed.  Siuteris);  Val.  Max.,  Hist.,  ii.  1,4;  Tert., 
Apol.  6.]  16.  Plin.,  K  H.,  ix.  117.  17.  De  Benef.,  vii.  9.  4  [cf.  id.j 
De  Vita  Beata,  xvii.  2.]     18.  De  Spectac.,  25.     19.  Juvenal,  vi.  360. 

20.  Propert.,  ii.  6,  27-34;   Senec,  Controv.,  v.  33;  Tacit.,  Germ.,  19. 

21.  De  B«nef.,  iii.  16,  2.  22.  vi.  223.  23.  Apol.  6.  24.  [De  Benef., 
iii.  16.]  26.  Ovid,  Am.  i.  8, 43;  iii.  4, 37;  Senec,  Consol.  ad  Helv.,  16,  3. 
[De  Benef.,  i.  9.]  26.  Juvenal,  ix.  19-22;  Min.  Fel.  Octavius,  24.  27. 
Tert.,  ad  Nat.  i.  15,  Apol.  15  [9].  28.  Juv.,  vi.  379-397.  29.  [Ad  Mar- 
ciam,  xix.  2.  Cf.  Friedl.,  i.  394-400.]  30.  In  the  temple  of  Venus  in 
Corinth  there  were  more  than  one  thousand  prostitutes  {Hierodouloi). 
They  had  great  privileges,  and  sometimes  presented  to  the  goddess 
the  vows  and  prayers  of  the  city.  Cf.  Strabo,  viii.  378.  So,  also,  in  a 
temple  at  Eryx  in  Sicily,  where  even  Roman  consuls  and  praetors 
participated  in  the  impurity,  believing  that  thus  they  made  them- 
selves acceptable  to  the  Deity.  Cf.  Diod.,  iv.  83.  31.  [Orelli,  4626,  sg. 
Cf.  Friedl.,  iii.  503-7.]  32.  Joseph.,  Antiq.,  xiv.  7,  1.  33.  Dio,  xxxix. 
65.  34.  Cic,  pro  Rabir.,  8;  Suet.,  Caes.,  54.  36.  Strabo,  iv.  188.  36 
Rep.,  ii.  375  [?  Leges,  xi.  918-20;  Jowett,  iv.  429,  sq.]  37.  Polit.,  v.  2, 1. 
88.  [Cic,  De  Off.,  i.  42.  Cf.  Doll.,  ii.  269.]  39.  Cato,  de  re  nat.,  v.  4; 
Columella,  i.  7.  40.  Cic,  De  Off.,  ii.  25;  Columella,  iv.  Praef.,  4.  41. 
[Cf.  De  Champagny,  Les  C^sars,  iv.  337,  sq.;  Friedl.,  i.  54-63.]  42.  De 
Bensf.,  iv.  28.  43.  [Suet.,  Oct.,  42;  Dion,  liv.  11.]  44.  Cf.  Spart., 
Sept.  Ser.,  19-23;  Vopisc,  Aurelianus,  35,  47,  48.  45.  [Suet.,  Ner., 
31.]  46.  Ad  Helv.,  x.  3.  47.  Pliji.,  H.  Nat.,  xiv.  142  [129].  48.  Ep., 
1.  9;  cf.  also  Seneca,  De  Tranq  Animi,  c.  12.  49.  Ep.,  i.  13  [Mel- 
moth,  p.  26.]  50.  Ep.,  88.  61.  [Cf.  Boissier,  v  48.]  52.  [xi.  185, 
6g.]  63.  ["According  to  the  latest  calculations,  tne  circus  in  late  im- 
perial times  must  have  contained  480,000  seats,"  Guhl  and  Koner, 
Life  of  the  Greeks  and  Bomans,  transl.  by  Hueffer,  p.  424,  n.    See, 


CHAP,  n  3  KOTBS.  48fc 

however,  Marq.  u.  Momm.,  H'dbuch  d.  rom.  Alterth.,  vi.  486,  n.  4.] 
64.  [Cf.  C.  I.  L.,  iv.  1189,  1190,  1181.]  66.  [Cf.  Lecky,  Hiat.  of  Eur. 
Mor.,  i.  298;  Mart.,  De  Spect.,  vii.;  Epigr.,  viii.  30;  x.  25;  Tertull., 
Ad.  "N'at.,  i.  10;  Friedl.,  ii.  268,  notes  and  references.]  66.  [Panegyr., 
33.]  57.  [Ep.,  vii.]  68.  [Art.  Am.,  i.  167-8.]  59.  iii.  20.  60.  De  Ea 
Rust.,  i.  17.  61.  [Ad  Attic,  i.  12,  4.]  62.  [Terr.,  v.  3;  Val.  Max.,  vf. 
3,  35.  The  man  had  brolien  a  law  prohibiting  slaves  from  canying 
arms.''  63.  Ins  tit.,  i.  xvi.  4.  Nullum  caput  habet;  L.  53,  Dig.  iv.  5, 
de  capit.  minut.  64.  L.  10,  §  5,  Dig.  xxxviii.  10,  de  grad.  et  aflBn. 
W.  Suet.,  De  Clar.  Ehetor.,  3;  cf.  Columella,  Prsef.,  10.  Aged  women 
even,  who  could  be  made  serviceable  in  no  other  way,  were  chained 
before  the  door.  Plaut.,  Curcul.,  i.  1,  76.  66.  Inexpiabili  literarum 
iota,  Yaler.  Max.,  vi.  8,  7;  Inscripti  vultus,  Martial,  viii.  75;  cf. 
Cic,  De  Off.,  ii.  7.  67.  Juvenal,  vi.  173-177.  "Set  a  cross  for  the 
slave."  —  "For  what  offence  has  he  merited  punishment?  What 
witness  is  present?  Who  has  accused  him?  Hear  I  No  delay  is  too 
long  when  the  question  concerns  the  death  of  a  man."  — "O  fool,  as 
if  the  slave  were  a  man !  He  has  done  nothing  ?  Be  it  so.  It  is  my 
will.  I  so  command.  My  will  is  reason  enough."  68.  De  Re  Kust., 
ii.  Plutarch,  Cat.  Mi.j.,  5.  69.  Suet.,  Claud.,  25;  cf.  Dion.,  Ix.  29. 
70.  Cf.  Tacit.,  Ann.,  xiv.  42,  sq.  71.  Phrixus,  ap.  Stob.  Florileg.  [Tit, 
Ixii.],  39.  72.  Philemon,  Ibid.,  28;  cf.  the  well-known  saying  in  Ter- 
ence: "Homo  sum,  humani  nihil  a  me  alienum  puto."  73.  Ep.,  95, 
33,  52;  cf.  De  Benef.,  iii.  28,  1.  74.  De  Benef.,  iii.  20,  1.  75.  Ep., 
47,  1.  76.  [Boissier,  who  presents  in  general  the  most  favorable 
aspects  of  Koman  slavery,  remarks  that  "no  ancient  writer  ex- 
presses, either  as  a  distant  hope,  or  as  a  fugitive  desire,  or  even  as  an 
improbable  hypothesis,  the  thought  that  slavery  might  one  day  be 
abolished.  .  .  .  This  was  one  of  those  radical  reforms  which  could 
scarcely  be  expected  in  the  regular  course  of  things.  ...  A  change 
so  profound  that  no  one  desired  it,  nor  foresaw  it,  could  not  be  accom- 
plished without  one  of  those  revolutions  which  renovate  the  world." 
La  Eel.  Kom.,  ii.  404-5.]  77.  [Cf.  Prof.  B.  B.  Edwards  in  Am.  Bib. 
Rep.,  V.  138,  sq.;  vi.  411,  sq.;  vii.  33,  sq.;  Wallon,  L'Esclavage  dans 
}' Antiquity  2d  ed.,  1879;  Boissier,  La  Eel.  Eom.,  ii.  345,  sq.]  78 
;  fheod.,  de  Grsec.  affect.  Cur.  Disp.,  iii.;  Opp.,  iv.  774;  Bib.  Eepos., 
ii,  464;  Clem  Alex.  Strom.,  ii.  20  (62).]  79.  Eunuch.,  iii.  5.  80.  Ep., 
58,  8-11.  81.  De  Vita  Beata,  viii.  2.  82.  Duniy,  Hist,  des  Romaina, 
T.431. 


486  NOTB8.  [book 


CHAPTER  m. 

1.  Ep.  ad  Diogn.,  c.  6.  I  have  allowed  the  passages  cited  from  thii 
Epistle  U-)  stand,  although  I  cannot  deny  that  my  previously  enter- 
tained doubts  whether  the  letter  is  really  as  old  as  usually  supposed 
have  been  strengthened  by  the  treatise  of  Overbeck:  Studien  zur  Ge- 
schichte  der  alten  Kirche,  i.  Heft.,  s.  1-93.  2.  Cf.  Kraus,  Roma  Sot- 
teranea,  S.  247  [284,  2d  Aufl. ;  Northcot^  and  Brownlow,  Rom.  Sott., 
247;  Withrow,  The  Catacombs,  241-2.]  3.  [Dial.  c.  Tryph.,  i.-viii.] 
4.  c.  32.  6.  Apol.  46;  [Plato,  Tim.,  p.  28;  Jowett,  ii.  624.]  6.  [Orig. 
c.  Cels.,  iii.  55.]  7.  [16.,  iii.  59,  62.]  8.  16.,  iii.  65.  9.  Minuc.  Felix 
Octav.,  32:  *'What  temple  shall  I  build  to  Him,  when  this  whole 
world  fashioned  by  His  work  cannot  receive  Him  ?  "  Orig.  c.  Cels., 
iii.  34.  "We  have  refrained  from  honoring  the  Divinity  by  such 
means,"  i.e.,  by  temples  and  statues.  [Cf.  Ante-Nicene  Christian  Li- 
brary, xiii.  504;  xxiii.  115.  The  language  of  the  translations  in  thia 
"Library,"  and  in  the  Oxford  "Library  of  Fathers  of  the  Holy  Cath- 
olic Church,"  has  been  freely  used  in  the  text.]  10.  Clem.  Alex. 
Strom.,  vii.  5,  29:  "Not  the  place,  but  the  assembly  of  the  elect,  I 
caU  the  church."  11.  Ep.  x.  96.  12.  Apol.  i.  65,  67.  13.  Apol. 
c.  39.  14.  [Hist.  Eccles.,  iii.  37.]  15.  Legatio,  ii.  16.  Apol.  i.  6a 
17.  c.  5.  18.  Apol.  44.  19.  Ruin.,  Act.  Mart.,  p.  270;  [ii.  145,  ed 
Galura.]  20.  c.  Cels.,  i.  46.  21.  Cf.  Orig.  c.  Cels.,  i.  2;  iii.  24;  Jusc. 
Apol.  i.  45;  Iren.,  adv.  Haer.,  ii.  32.  4.  22.  Cf.  on  the  miraculous 
powers  of  the  early  Christians:  Biickmann  in  the  Zeitschr.  f.  Luth. 
Theol.  u.  Kirche,  1878,  ii. ;  [Blunt,  Right  Use  of  the  Early  Fathers, 
3d  ed.,  310,  sq.;  Mozley,  Bampton  Lectures,  1865,  p.  250,  sq.;  McClin- 
tock  and  Strong,  Cyclopaedia,  vi.  320,  sq.]  23.  Cf.  Tert.,  De  Coron. 
Mil.,  c.  3;  Ad  Ux.,  ii.  5;  Orig.  c.  Cels.,  vi.  27.  24.  Tert.,  De  Coron., 
11;  Ad  Martyr.,  3;  De  Exhort.  Cast.,  12;  De  Orat.,  14, 19;  De  Jejun., 
10,  12,  13.  25.  De  Or.,  29.  26.  Cf.  Tertullian's  treatise  on  Fasting, 
particularly  c.  14,  16;  Iren.,  ii.  31;  Just.,  i.  61;  Cypr.,  Ep.  11;  Euseb., 
Hist.  Eccl.,  V.  24.  27.  De  Coron.  Mil.,  11.  28.  Tertull.,  Apol.  9; 
Minuc.  Felix  Octav.,  30;  Clem.  Alex.,  Paed.,  iii.  8;  Orig.  c.  Cels.,  viii. 
30.  They  abstained  also  from  meat  offered  to  idols.  Just.  c.  Tryph., 
34,  35;  Tert,  De  Spect.,  13.  29.  Tert.,  Apol.  31,  35;  Ad  Nat.,  i.  17; 
Minuc.  Fel.  Octav.,  18.  30.  In  general  the  Church  had  not  prohibited 
military  and  political  service.  "It  is  lawful  to  take  part  in  pablic 
affairs."  Clem.  Al.,  Paed.,  iii.  11.  110.  There  was  also,  however,  a 
rigid  theory.  The  Const.  Eccl.  Egypt.,  ii.  47,  exclude  from  the  num- 
ber of  catechumens  every  one  who  bore  the  power  of  the  sword,  or. 


CHAP,  ra.]  NOTES.  487 

as  an  officer  of  the  State,  was  clothed  in  purple,  unless  he  resigned 
his  office.  They  excommunicate  a  Christian  who  voh  mtarily  becomes 
a  soldier:  ii.  41.  Cf.,  further,  upon  military  service,  Tert.,  De  Idol., 
19;  De  Cor.  Mil.,  11;  Orig.  c.  Cels.,  v.  33;  vii.  36;  Tiii.  73-75:  upon 
governmental  offices.  Grig.  c.  Cels.,  ib.;  Tert.,  Apol.  38;  De  Pallio,  5, 
De  Idol.,  17,  18;  Cypr.,  Ep.  viii.  31.  Const.  Ap.,  viii.  32;  Tertull., 
De  Idol.,  4.  32.  Ign.  ad  Trail.,  6;  Tertull.,  De  Pudic,  4;  Ad  Ux., 
ii.  8;  De  Monog.,  11.  33.  Strom.,  ii.  8.  71.  [?]  34.  Ad  Ux.,  ii.  9. 
35.  [Instr.,  iii.  11.  67.]  36.  Strom.,  iv.  19;  Paedag.,  1.  4.  37.  [Ap. 
Const.,  viii.  3.  20.]  38.  [Tertull.,  De  Cult.  Fem.,  ii.  11.]  39.  Cf. 
Clem.  Alex.,  Psed.,  iii.  10.  49.  40.  De  Cult.  Fem.,  ii.  11.  41.  De 
Cult.  Fem.,  1.  8;  ii.  6.  et  al.;  cf.  Cyprian's  treatise  De  Habitu  Virgi- 
num.  42.  De  Cult.  Fem.,  ii.  13.  43.  Clem.  Alex.,  Psed.,  ii.  10.  96. 
44.  Const,  ^.g.,  ii.  62.  [Vid.  Anal.  Ante-Nic,  ii.  p.  475.]  45.  Clem. 
Alex.,  Paed.,  ii.  1.  10.  46.  Bunsen,  Analecta  Ante-Nicsena,  iii.  88, 89; 
[Id.  Hippolytus  and  his  Age,  iii.  144,  68.]  47.  Lact.  Inst.  Div.,  v. 
15.  48.  De  Coron.  Mil.,  13.  49.  Const.  Eccl.  Egypt.,  ii.  40.  60.  c, 
19.  51.  Apost.  Const.,  iv.  6.  52.  Orat.,c.  11.  53  Ign.  ad  Polyc,  c. 
4.  54.  Const.  Ap.,  iv.  17.  55.  [Acta  Sanctorum,  Mali,  i.  371.]  56. 
Tert.,  Apol.  46.  57.  Legatio  [11].  58.  Const.  Apost.,  iv.  2  [ii.  63]. 
59.  Const.  Apost.,  iv.  2.  60.  Cf.  TertuUian's  treatise  De  Spectaculis, 
anil  the  similar  one  by  Cyprian  [iii.  p.  11,  ed.  Hartel.,  0pp.  Spuria]. 
61.  [Asin.,  ii.  4.  88.]  62.  Trinum.,  ii.  2.  58.  63.  De  Offic,  iii.  29 
1.  16.  64.  Seneca,  De  Clem.,  ii.  6;  De  Ira,  i.  14.  3.  65.  Tac,  Ann. 
iv.  63.  66.  Tert.,  Apol.  39.  67.  Ep.  19.  68.  Lact.  Inst.,  vi.  10.  11. 
69.  Ad  Ux.,  ii.  4.  70.  Const.  Ap.  Copt.,  i.  17.  71.  Apol.  42.  72.  Apol. 
i.  67.  73.  Apol.  39.  74.  [Adv.  Haer.,  iv.  18.  2.]  75.  Tert.,  adv.  Marc, 
iv.  4;  De  Praescr.  Haer.,  30.  76.  Const.  Ap.,  iv.  6.  77.  Tert.,  De  Exh. 
Cast.,  11;  DeCor.  Mil.,  3;  De  Monog.,  10.  78.  [Vit.  Cyp.,  2.  15.]  79. 
The  entire  passage,  Apol.  39,  is  of  the  highest  interest,  because  it 
shows  plainly  that  the  Christian  churches  bore,  at  least  in  this  rela- 
tion, the  form  of  Associations.  An  inscription  from  Lanuvium,  of 
the  year  136  (Or.,  6086)  gives  us  exact  information  respecting  th6 
Association  of  Cultores  of  Diana  and  of  Antinous.  It  is  a  burial- 
club.  Each  member  paid  an  admission  fee  of  100s.  (about  $5), 
Mid  afterwards  a  monthly  assessment  of  5  asses  (about  5  cents).  On 
the  death  of  a  member  300s.  were  paid  for  his  burial.  Of  this  sum 
50s.  were  divided  among  those  members  who  were  present  at  the 
Interment.  A  part  of  the  income  of  the  society  was  expended  in 
common  banquets  and  festivities.  TertuUian  evidently  refers  to  fhia 
tustom  when  he  sets  forth  so  explicitly  that  the  gifts  deposited  in  the 
urea  were  not  used  for  any  such  purposes.     Cf.  respecting  these 


488  NOTEa  LBOOK  I 

A-ssociations.  Mommsen,  De  collegiis  et  sodalitiis  Romanoi  im;  [Dt 
Champagny,  Les  Antonins,  iii.  417,  sg.j  80.  Cypr.,  Ep.  60.  Herm.. 
Pastor,  iii.,  Sim.,  5.  3;  Tert.,  De  Jejun.,  13;  Const.  Ap.,  v.  20.  81 
In  Ijeyit.  Horn.,  x.  2.  ["  Invenimus  enim  in  quodam  libello  ab  Apos- 
tolis  dictum:  beatus  est,  qui  etiam  jejunat  pro  eo  ut  alat  pauperem."] 
82.  [Ep.  iv.  vi.]  83.  [Ambros.,  De  Offic.  Ministr.,  ii.  28;  Prudent. 
Peri  Steph.  Hymn.,  2.]  84.  Const.  Ap.,  ii.  25,  31,  32;  iii.  19;  Cypr., 
Ep.  38.  85.  Cypr.,  Ep.  41.  86.  Const.  Ap.,  ii.  4;  iv.  3.  Cyprian,  Ep. 
61  [ii.,  ed.  Hartel,  and  Oxford  ed.,  Ix.,  transl.  in  Ante-Nicene  Lib.] 
provides  that  support  should  be  given,  if  needful,  from  the  church 
treasury,  to  a  converted  actor.  87.  [Ignat.  ad  Polyc,  4;  Const.  Ap., 
iii.  3;  Cypr.,  Ep.  xxxv.  (vii).]  88.  [Ap.  Const.,  iv.  1-3.]  89.  [Tert., 
Apol.  39;  Chastel,  Etudes  Histor.,  p.  104.]  90.  [Const.  Ap.,  iv.  9; 
cf.  i.  Clem,  ad  Cor.,  55.]  91.  [Const.  Ap.,  v.  1;  Alexand.,  Lit.  in 
Bunsen,  Anal.  Ante-Nic,  iii.  24;  Cypr.,  Ep.  36  (xii.),  4  (v.),  5  (xiv.)] 
92.  [Chastel,  ib.,  pp.  109-10;  i.  Clem.  Rom.  ad  Cor.,  1-2;  Euseb.,  Hist. 
EccL,  iv.  23;  Lucian,  De  Mort.  Persgr.,  13;  Bib.  Sac,  x.  455.]  93. 
Euseb.,  Hist.  EccL,  iv.  23;  vii.  5.  94.  [Ep.  59  (62).]  95.  Euseb.,  Hist. 
Eccl.,  vi.  43.  96.  Chrysost.,  Hom.  66;  In  Matth.,  §  3.  97.  Ambros., 
Ep.  63  [1044.  89.]  98.  Ambros.,  De  Off.,  ii.  28.  99.  [Apol.  i.  14,  15. 
Cf.  Athenag.  Sup.  pro  Christ.,  1,  11;  Theoph.  ad.  Autol.,  14.]  100. 
[Ad  Scap.,  1.]  101.  Pont.  Vit.  Cypr.,  §  9.  102.  Euseb.,  Hist.  Eccl., 
vii.  22.  103.  [Cf.  Chastel.,  Etudes  Historiques  sur  1' Influence  de 
Charity  durant  les  Premiers  Si^cles  chret.,  Paris,  1853.]  104.  Ad 
Autol.,  iii.  11.  105.  Ad  Scap.,  2;  [Apol.  37.]  106.  [Ad  Nat.,  i.  17; 
cf.  Apol.  35.]  107.  Apol.  33.  108.  Ep.  vi.,  xiii.  109.  Tert.,  Apol. 
46.  110.  [Mart.,  Pol.  xiv.,  in  Patr.  Apostol.,  Op.  ed.  Zahn,  p.  154.] 
111.  [Ruinart,  Acta  Martyr.,  i.  191,  ed.  Galura.]  112.  Euseb.,  De 
Martyr.  Falsest.,  c.  8.  113.  Ruin.,  Acta  Mart.,  p.  150.  114.  [Cf. 
Withrow,  The  Catacombs  of  Rome,  p.  103.]  115.  [Cf.  Withrow,  ib. 
294-9;  Northcote  and  Brownlow,  Rom.  Sott.,  73,  245,  250,  310.]  116. 
Cf.  Orig.  c.  Cels.,  viii.  38.  117.  [Mart.  Polyc,  c  4.]  118.  [Ep.  82 
(Ed.  Oxf.  81).]  119.  [De  Mortal.,  c.  17.]  120.  Cf.  treatise  De  Fuga 
In  Persecutionc  121.  [Ep.  4  (Oxf.  ed.  5).]  122.  Diod.,  iii.  12,  13, 
gives  a  description  of  the  misery  of  those  who  worked  in  the  mines: 
"No  mercy  is  there,  no  respite  allowed  either  to  the  sick,  or  th«» 
maimed,  or  to  women.  Without  distinction  they  are  all  compelled 
by  blows  to  labor  until,  reduced  to  despair,  they  perish  in  their 
misery."  123.  Ruinart,  Acta  Mart.,  p.  395  [ii.  295,  ed.  Galura].  Ct 
Tert.,  Apol.  60;  Cypr.,  De  Mortal.,  p.  233.  [c  15.]  124.  Ruinart, 
Acta  Mart.,  p.  144  [i.  332,  ed.  GaAira]. 


CHAP,  l]  notes.  489 


BOOK  II.,  CHAPTER  I. 

1.  Roma  Sott.,  i.  318  [North,  and  Br.  Rom.  Sott.,  122,  sq.];  In-igni 
Bcoperte  nel  cimetero  di  Domitilla  in  Bull,  di  Archeologla  ciistiana, 
[Ser.  i.,  1865].  Cf.  Theol.  lit.  Zeit.,  1876,  p.  291 ;  [Harnack  in  Princeton 
Rev.,  July,  1878,  p.  257,  sq.;  Kraus,  Roma  Sotteranea,  p.  127,  sq.  (142, 
2d  Aufl.)].  2.  Octav.,  c.  6.  3.  [J&.  6.]  4.  [16.  8.]  6.16.12.  6. 
lb.  10.  7.  ["Molestum  ilium  volunt,  inquietum,  impudenter  etiam 
curiosum."]  8.  [76.  10.]  9.  Tac,  Hist.,  v.  3;  Tert.,  Apol.  16;  [Ad 
Nat.,  11, 14;]  Minucius  Felix  Octav.,  c.  9.  10.  P.  Raffaele  Garucci:  11 
Crocifisso  graflSto  in  casa  dei  Cesari,  Roma,  1857;  Becker:  Das  Spott- 
cmcifix  im  romisclien  Kaiserpalast,  Breslau,  1866;  [Kraus:  Das 
Spottcrucifix  vora  Palatin,  Freiburg  i.  Breisgau,  1872;  Parker,  Hon. 
J.H.:  Historical  Photographs,  No.  107,  Oxford,  1870;  Aub6:  Perse- 
cutions de  I'Eglise,  La  Pol^mique  Pai'enne,  Paris,  1878,  p.  96,  sq.; 
Caricatures,  etc.,  by  J.  Parton,  pp.  25-6;  Univ.  Quart.,  July,  1879,  p. 
338.]  11.  Octav.,  c.  9;  cf.  Bus.,  Hist.  Eccl.,  iv.  15;  [A.  N.  L.,  xxii. 
463.]  12.  Orig.  c.  Gels.,  iii.  44.  13.  76.  iii.  75.  14.  Acta  Epipodii  et 
Alexandri  [Ruinart,  i.  166,  ed.  Galura].  15.  Octav.,  c.  8.  16.  76.  12. 
17.  [Apol.  38.]  18.  Gf.  Tert.,  Apol.  42.  19.  [^n.,  1.278.]  20.  [Tert., 
Apol.  4.]  21.  [According  to  the  Acta,  Ruinart,  i.  350,  ed.  Galura, 
Achatius  was  a  confessor.  Other  martyrologies,  however,  represent 
him  as  a  martyr.  Gf.  Smith  and  Wace,  Diet,  of  Ghrist.  Biog.,  i.  p.  11.] 
22.  [Apol.  5.  .  .  .  portio  Neronis.  .  .  .]  23.  Ghrist.  Kortholt:  de  perse- 
cutionibus  eccl.  primaevEe,  Kiloni,  1689.  For  later  works  I  would  refer 
particularly  to  Aubd:  Histoire  des  Persecutions  de  TEglise  jusqu'^ 
la  fin  des  Antonins,  2d  ed.,  Paris,  1875;  Overbeck:  Ueber  die  Gesetze 
der  rom.  Kaiser  von  Trajan  bis  Marc.  Aurel.  gegen  die  Ghristen,  in 
den  Studien  zur  Gesch.  der  alten  Kirche  (1875),  S.  93,  sq.;  Wieseler: 
Die  Ghristenverfolgung  der  Gasaren  bis  zum  dritten  Jahrh.,  Giiters- 
loh,  1878.  [Thiel :  altrom  Rechtsanschauung  bez.  d.  polit.  Stellung  d. 
chr.  Relig.,  TUb.  Th.  Q'schr.  1855.  2.;  Le  Blant:  les  Bases  juridiques 
des  poursuites  dirig^es  contre  les  martyrs,  compt.  rftnd.  de  I'Acad. 
des  Inscr.  Par.,  1868.  For  the  Acts  of  the  Martyrs,  see  Theodor.  Rui 
nart:  Acta  prim.  mart,  sincera  et  selecta,  2d  ed.,  Amstel.,  1713. 
The  references  in  these  notes  are  to  this  edition,  unless  otherwise 
Btatai,  Other  sources  of  information  are:  Martyrol.  Hieron.,  in 
Migne's  Patrol.  Lat.,  tom.  xxx.  449;  Martyrol.  Roman.,  ed.  Baron, 
2d  ed.,  1589;  Menolog.  Graec,  ed.  Urbini,  1727;  Euseb.,  Hist.  Eccl.; 
the  works  of  the  Apologists;  Lactant.,  De  Mort.  persecutorum;  Biog- 
raphies in  the  Acta  Sanctorum  Boll. ;  in  Les  petite  Bollan  listes  Viei 


490  NOTES.  [book  n. 

des  Saints,  Bar-le-duc,  18Y2-74;  and  in  The  I^ives  of  the  Saints  by 
Rev.  S.  Baring-Gould,  1872-77.]  24.  [These  general  laws  were,  as 
stated  by  Kraus,  Lehrbuch  d.  Kirchengesch.,  i.  pp.  55-6,  (1)  the  le:c 
Julia  mc^estatis.  Its  transgression  —  either  facto,  or  verbis  impiis, 
murmuratione  contra  felicitatem  temporum,  or  coetu  noctumo  and 
coitione  clandestina,  illicito  collegio  —  was  punished  with  death: 
humiliores  bestiis  objiciuntur  vel  vivl  exuruntur;  honestiores  capite 
puniuntur.  The  same  penalties  were  appointed  for  (2)  sacHlegium-^ 
which  could  be  committed  by  refusing  the  sacrifices  due  to  the  gods 
and  to  the  Genius  of  the  Emperor:  sacrilegi  et  majestatis  rei  con- 
venimur;  summa  hsec  causa,  immo  tota  est.  Tert.,  Apol.  10.  This 
charge  took  away  a  freeman's  privileges,  so  that  he  could  be  put  to 
torture  like  a  slave,  .  .  .  majestatis  causa,  in  qua  sola  omnibus  sequa 
conditio  est.  Cod.  Justin.,  L.  iv.,  de  quaest.,  ix.  41.  Beside  torture, 
burning  and  crucifixion  could  be  employed.  (3)  Magia,  superstitio 
malefica.  A  law  of  the  XII.  Tables  affixed  the  penalty  of  death  to  the 
crime  of  incantation.  An  offender  could  be  thrown  to  the  wild  beasts 
or  crucified.  Ipsi  autem  magi  vivi  exuruntur.  Sentent.  v.  23,  17. 
The  Christians  could  bring  on  themselves  the  accusation  through 
exorcisms.  The  law  forbade  keeping  books  of  magic,  and  could  be 
applied  to  those  who  had  the  sacred  Scriptures.  (4)  Superstitio  ex- 
terna, or  peregrina  ;  religio  illicita.  Acts  xvi.  21.  The  penalty  was 
banishment  for  the  higher  classes,  death  for  the  lower.  (5)  From 
Trajan's  time  the  law  against  brotherhoods  (Hetseriae)  was  applied  to 
the  Christians.]  25.  De  Rossi,  in  his  investigations,  is  the  first  to 
have  drawn  attention  to  this  circumstance.  Cf.  Elraus,  Rom.  Sott, 
S.  49,  sq.  [2d  ed.  S.  53,  sq.;  Northcote  and  Brownlow,  R.  Sott.,  49,  sq.] 
Following  exactly  the  custom  of  the  burial-clubs  which  Severus  had 
sanctioned  by  a  general  edict  (Dig.  xlviii.  22.  1),  the  Christians,  ac- 
cording to  Tertullian  (Apol.  c.  39),  contributed  menstrua  die  in  order 
to  support  and  bury  the  poor.  Of  special  interest  is  the  inscription 
found  at  Cherchell  [anc.  Caesarea]  in  Africa  (Renier,  Inscr.  de  I'Al- 
gerie,  4025)  [Kraus,  R.  Sott.,  S.  58,  2d  ed.],  where  a  Christian  who 
gives  an  area,  or  burial-place,  calls  himself  "  cultor  verbij**  a  designa- 
tion which  is  evidently  formed  from  the  custom  of  calling  the  mem- 
bers of  such  burial-clubs  Cultor es  Jovis,  Cultor es  Apollinis  et  Dianoi. 
Cf.  also  G.  Heinrici:  Die  Christengemeinde  Korinths  u.  die  reli- 
gioftCD  Genossenschaften  derGriechen,  Ztschr.  f.  wiss.  Theol.,  1876,  S. 
465  fE.  26.  Wieseler  (Die  Christenverfolg.,  etc.,  S.  1,  sq. )  has  called  Id 
question  the  opinion  that  the  Christians  were  regarded  by  the  heathen 
as  Jews.  He  refers  particularly  to  the  fact  that  according  to  Tacitui 
they  were  already  called  Christians  by  the  populace  in  the  Neroniai 


n.]  NOTES.  491 

persecution.  This  is  correct,  but  on  the  other  hand  it  appears  from 
Tacitus' s  report  that  they  were  persecuted  not  as  Chnstians,  but  on 
account  of  the  shameful  deeds  attributed  to  them,  particularly  the 
setting  the  great  fire.  The  heathen,  it  may  be  assumed,  did  not 
everywhere  attain  at  the  same  time  to  a  knowledge  of  the  difference 
between  Christians  and  Jews,  and,  doubtless,  this  discovery  was  first 
made  in  Rome.  This  being  so,  the  heathen  could  give  the  Christiana 
a  special  name,  and  still  at  the  same  time  regard  them  as  a  fraction 
of  Judaism.  There  are  no  instances  before  the  time  of  Trajan  in 
which  Christians  are  condemned  on  account  of  a  collegium  illicitwny 
or  for  holding  a  prohibited  religion.  So  far,  indeed,  Wieseler  is  right : 
Christianity  did  not  first  become  an  unlawful  religion  by  the  decree 
of  Trajan.  It  .lad  always  been  this,  though  not  at  first  so  recognized. 
It  is  also  true  that  trials  of  Christians  did  not  first  begin  in  conse- 
quence of  Trajan's  rescript.  Pliny  assumes  that  there  had  already 
been  such,  even  in  Rome  itself;  only  he  had  never  had  an  opportunity 
to  be  present  at  one.  At  the  same  time  Pliny's  letter  shows  plainly 
that  these  trials  were  still  somewhat  novel.  27.  Suet.,  Claudius,  25. 
Cf.  Tert.,  Apol.  3;  [ad.  Nat.,  i.  3;  Justin,  Apol.  i.  4;  Theoph.  ad 
Autol.,  i.  12;  Lactant.,  Inst.  iv.  7;  Lightfoot,  Philippians,  p.  16,  n.] 
28.  Tacit.,  Ann.  xv.  44;  Suet.,  Nero,  16.  Cf.  on  the  burning  of 
Rome,  and  the  Persecution,  particularly  Schiller:  Geschichte  des 
romischen  Kaiserreichs  unter  Nero  (Berlin,  1872),  S.  415,  sq.;  Aub^: 
Persecutions,  etc.,  74,  sq.;  Hausrath:  Neutestament.  Zeitgesch., 
iii.  93,  aq,    28.  L  c  6.     [Lightfoot's  TransL]    30.  Sat.  i.  155,  sg. 


CHAPTER  n. 

1.  No  writer  beiore  Orosius  (vii.  7)  makes  this  persecution  extend 
beyond  Rome.  De  Rossi's  attempt  (Bullet,  di  Archeol.  Crist.,  Dec. 
1865,  p.  90,  sq.)  to  prove  its  extension,  from  Pompeian  inscriptions, 
was  unsuccessful.  Cf.  Aub^,  De  la  legality  du  Christianisme  dans 
I'Empire  Romain  pendant  le  premier  siecle.  Comptes  Rendus,  1866,  :i. 
p.  134,  sq.;  also  printed  in  his  "  Persecutions  de  I'Eglise,"  p.  407,  sq. 
2.  Suetonius,  Domit.  12.  3.  Xiphilinus,  Epit.  Dion.  Cass.,  Ixvii.  14. 
4.  [Domit.  15.]  5.  Cf.  Zahn,  Hirt  des  Hennas,  p.  44,  sq.;  [contra: 
Lightfoot,  Philippians,  p.  22,  sq.;  Clement  of  Rome  (Appendix),  p. 
256,  sq.;  Harnack  in  Pat.  Apost.  opp.,  ed.  iii.,  Fasc,  1.  p.  Ixxxviii; 
Withrow,  Catacombs,  p.  56,  sq.]  6.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  20.  7.  Ep. 
X.  96  (97) ;  [Trajan's  answer,  Ep.  x.  97  (98)] :  cf.  Aub4,  lib.  cit.,  p.  20X 


492  NOTES.  [BOOK  n. 

sq.;  Overbeck,  lib.  cit.,  p.  Ill,  sq.;  Wieseler,  lib.  cit.,  p.  14,  sq.  8 
Apol.  2.  9.  [Tert.,  Apol.  50.  See  Oxf.  TransL,  p.  105,  note,  for  col- 
lection  of  passages.]  10.  [Just.  M.,  2  Apol.  2.]  11.  \J)e  Spect.,  1.] 
12.  Iren.,  Adv.  Haer.,  iii.  3.  §  3.;  cf.  Lipsius,  Chronol.  d.  rom.  Bis- 
chofe,  pp.  170,  263,  272.  Telesphorus  was  martyred  A.  D.  135  or  137. 
Bp.  Alexander's  martyrdom  is  probably  legendary  {Ibid.f  p.  167).  13. 
IJuinart,  Acta  Sine,  p.  23,  sq.  These  Acta  are  based  on  fact,  though 
containing  legendary  embellishments.  [The  references  are  to  the  sec- 
ond ed.,  Amstel.  1713.]  14.  Tert.,  Ad  Scap.,  5.  16.  Hadrian's  edict 
adressed  to  Minucius  Fundanus  I  hold  to  be  genuine  against  Keim 
(Theol.  Jahrb.,  1856,  p.  387,  sq.),  Overbeck  (lib.  cit.,  p.  134,  sq.),  and 
Aub6  (lib.  cit.,  p.  262,  sq.).  Its  insertion  in  Justin  M.,  1  Apol.  68, 
is  a  strong  proof  of  its  genuineness,  which  cannot  be  set  aside  without 
the  hypothesis  of  interpolation,  of  which  there  is  no  evidence.  Of 
course,  if  the  Emperor  (as  above  authorities  assume)  really  is  made 
to  say  that  Christians  are  not  to  be  punished  as  such,  but  only  for 
other  offences  against  the  laws,  then  the  edict  could  not  be  geniiine. 
But  this  interpretation  is  not  necessary.  Without  violence  the  edict 
may  be  explained  as  on  p.  263.  16.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  iv.  23.  17. 
Ibid.,  iv.  26.  I  believe  the  Edictum  ad  commune  AsicB  to  be  spurious, 
in  spite  of  Wieseler's  defence  of  it  (lib.  cit.,  p.  18,  sq.).  18.  Apol.  37. 
Ad  Scap.,  5.  19.  [Pantaenus,  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  10. :  "  Dumb  folk," 
Min.  Fel.  Octav.,  8;  cf.  31.]  20.  [1  Apol.  1.]  21.  Octavius  used  to 
be  regarded  as  of  later  date  than  TertuUian ;  but  now  the  view  con- 
stantly gains  ground  that  Tert.  used  Oct.,  and  that  the  latter  belongs 
to  the  time  of  Marc.  Aurel.,  cir.  A.  D.  180.  Theophilus  ad  Antolycum 
is  of  about  the  same  date.  22.  [1  Apol.  55].  23.  [1  Apol.  5,  46. ;  2 
Apol.  8,  10.]  24.  [c.  9.]  25.  [Adv.  Graec,  2,  3,  25,  26.]  26.  [Apol. 
17;  cf.  De  Test.  Anim.]  27.  Tusc,  i.  39;  Ad.  Attic,  x.  18,  1.  28. 
[M.  C.  Frontonis  Epp.  ad  Antonin.  Imp.  et  invicem,  L,  Ep.  1:  Pullria 
noster  Antoninus  aliquo  lenius  tussit :  quantum  quisque  in  nidulo  nos- 
tTOJam  sapit,  tantumpro  te  precatur.]  Fronto  ad  Marc.  Caes.,  iv.  12. 
29.  Aulus  Gellius,  xii.  1.  30.  Orelli,  2677;  Mommsen,  Insc.  Neap., 
1092.  31.  Henzen  (Annali  dell'  instituto  di  corresp.  archeol.,  1844, 
pp.  1-111.  [Wolf.,  F.  A.,  von  einer  milder  Stiftung  Trajans,  Pro- 
gramm,  Berl.,  1808.]  Peter,  Gescli.  Eoms,  iii.  p.  514,  sq.  32.  c.  26. 
83.  Jul.  Capitolin.,  Antonin.  8. ;  Lamprid.,  Severus,  56.  34.  Ep.  i.  8; 
ii.  5;  V.  7;  vii.  18.  35.  Orelli,  6669.  36.  Ep.  vi.  3;  vi.  32.  37.  Ep. 
I.  8;  vu.  18.  38.  Orelli,  114;  6042.  39.  Ep.  v.  19;  ''  .  6;  iu.  19;  viii. 
16, 19.  40.  Dig.  i.  1.  4.  [Utpote  cum  jure  naturali  omnes  liber inas- 
cerentur,  nee  esset  nota  manumissio,  cum  seroitus  esset  incognita; 
§ed  postea  quam  jure  gentium  servitus  invasit,  aecutum  est  ben^fieium 


OHAP.  n.]  NOTEa  498 

manumissionis.  M  cum  uno  naturali  tomine  homines  appellaremufj 
jure  gentium  tria  genera  esse  cceperunt :  liberi,  et  his  contrarium  servi, 
et  tertium  genus  libertij  id  est,  qui  desierant  esse  servi.]  Cf.  Becker- 
Marquardt,  H'dbuch  d.  rom.  Alterthiimer,  v.  197,  sq.;  Overbeck,  lib. 
cit.,  p.  170,  sq.  41.  [iv.  4.]  42.  Especially  De  Champagny :  Hist,  des 
Antonins  [Paris,  1866] ;  Schmidt  [Charles],  Essai  historix^ue  sur  la 
soci^t^  civile  dans  le  monde  romain  et  sur  sa  transformation  par  le 
Christianisme,  Strasb.,  1853;  Thiersch:  Politik  und  Philosophie 
unter  Trajan  und  Hadrian  und  den  beiden  Antoninen.  On  the  other 
hand  Overbeck,  1.  c,  is  inclined  to  under-estimate  the  influence  ci 
Christianity.  43.  Orig.  c.  Cels.,  viii.  68.  44.  [1  Apol.  1-3.  Oxf. 
Transl.  in  the  main.]  46.  [vii.  73;  ix.  42;  viii.  59.  These  and  the 
following  are  from  Long's  Transl.]  46.  [iv.  23,  34;  ii.  13;  iii.  5;  v. 
31.]  47.  [xi.  3.]  48.  [Epp.  ad  Marc.  Antonin.  Imp.  de  Nepote  Amisso: 
Ep.  2.]  49.  [ii.  16;  vi.  54;  ii.  5.]  50.  [aae^eiac:  the  better  reading  is 
'Aoi'af,  "the  teacher  of  Asia;"  cf.  Zahn  in  Pat.  Apost.  0pp., ed. 
iii.,  Ease,  ii.,  p.  150.]  61.  Much  has  recently  been  written  about 
the  date  of  Polycarp's  death.  The  majority  now  follow  Waddington, 
who  (M^moire  sur  le  chronologie  d«  la  vie  du  rh^teur  -^lius  Aristida 
[Memoires  de  I'Acad.  des  Insc,  etc.,  Tom.  xxvi.,  Part.  I.,  1867.  p. 
203,  sq.])  makes  Feb.  23,  155,  the  date.  Gebhardt  [Zeitschr.  fur  hist. 
Theol.,  1875,  p.  377]  holds  to  155  or  156.  [Cf.  Lipsius,  Zeitschr.  fur 
wiss.  Theol.,  1874,  p.  188;  Hilgenfeld,  Ibid.,  p.  120,  note,  325,  sq.; 
Zahn,  lib.  cit.,  p.  148;  Lightfoot,  Contemp.  Keview,  May,  1875,  p. 
838;  Aug.,  1876,  p.  415.]  Wieseler  (lib.  cit.,  p.  34,  sq.)  seems  to  me  to 
have  hit  the  mai-k.  62.  Cf.  Wieseler,  lib.  cit.,  p.  104,  sq.  63.  [2  Apol. 
3.  *' Impaled,"  this  is  Uhlhom's  translation  (an  den  Pfahl  gehangt) 
with  Maranus.  The  words  are  ^vTup  l/xnay^vai.  Yalesius,  Heinichen 
(in  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  iv.  16  §  3),  also  Gildersleeve  (Apologies  of  Jus- 
tin, N.Y.,  1877,  p.  213),  Otto  in  loc.  (3d  ed.),  translate  "fastened  in 
the  stocks."  Otto  in  ed.  2.  (i.,  p.  175)  translates  it  "crucified;"  and 
if  we  bear  in  mind  (1)  that  the  connection  seems  to  favor  a  capital 
punishment,  —  Justin  would  hardly  refer  to  the  hatred  of  Crescena 
as  satisfied  and  the  rage  of  the  heathen  as  glutted  by  putting  him  in 
the  stocks,  —  (2)  the  frequent  use  of  ^vaov  with  the  meaning  cross: 
then  "crucified"  will  perhaps  appear  a  not  unnatural  interpre- 
latioi:.  ■  64.  Apol.  5.  [Fulminata  appears  in  an  Inscr.  of  Tarquinii, 
Bullet  dell'  Institnt.,  1830,  p.  198;  White  and  Ptiddle,  Diet.,  s.  v.] 
66.  Adv.  Graec,  4.  66.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  iv.  26.  Acta  Symphor., 
Ruinart,  p.  78,  sq.  The  edict  there  cited,  and  which  Neander  (ch. 
Hist.,  2d  Am.  ed.,  i.  p.  108)  holds  to  be  genuine,  is  surely  spurious. 
57.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  1.    The  persecution  began  A  D.  177.     6t 


494  NOTES.  [BOOK  iL 

Orig.  c.  Gels.,  viii.  39,  40,  69.  On  the  situation  of  the  Church  cf. 
Keim,  Celsus'  Wahres  Wort  [Zurich,  1873],  p.  268,  sq.  Aubi  (lib.  cit., 
p.  342,  sq.)  vainly  tries  to  shift  the  blame  from  Marcus  Aurelius,  aud 
to  represent  the  persecution  as  insignificant.  69.  Orig.  c.  Cels.  [i.  28, 
32,  38,  62;  ii.  9;  i.  67;  ii.  29,  32;  i.  68,  71;  ii.  41,  42;  ii.  15,  13,  sg.,20, 

24,  54,  55.]  u.  55.  60.  [Ibid.,  ii.  63,  70.]  61.  Ibid.,  iv.  3.  [Keim, 
Ibid.,  p.  46.]  62.  Ibid.  [v.  5],  iv.  23.  [Keim,  Ibid.,  p.  51.]  63 
[lUd.,  iv.  23,  74,  78,  80,  81,  86,  88,  98.]  iv.  99.  [iv.  62;  Keim,  Ibid. 
p.  63.]  64.  Strauss:  Der  alte  und  der  neue  Glaube,  p.  228  [3d  Eng. 
ed.,  Lond.,  1874,  vol.  ii.,  p.  37.]  65.  Strauss,  pp.  200,  202,  sq.  [Eng. 
ed.,  ii.,  pp.  11,  13-15.]  66.  [Orig.  c.  Gels.,  i.  27;  Keim,  Ibid.,  p.  11.] 
67.  IMd.,  viii.  63  [Keim,  lUd.,  p.  135.]  68.  Ibid.,  viii.  66,  67  [Keim, 
IWd.,  p.  136.1  

CHAPTER  in. 

1.  [Jul.  Gapitolin.,  Vita  Marc.  Aurel.,  28.]  2.  [Dion.  Cass.,  Hist 
Rom.,  Ixxvi.  15.]  3.  Athenagoras,  Leg.  pro  Christ.,  26.  4.  Philo- 
strat.,  Vit.  Sophist.,  ii.  7.  5.  Athenag.,  1.  c.  6.  [This  last  inscription 
may  be  found  in  Gruter  (Insc.  Ant.,  Amstel.,  1707, 4  vols,  fol.)  p.  748, 
7.]  7.  [These  words  in  ceternum  renatus  occur  in  an  inscription 
Corp.  Insc.  Lat.  vol.  vi.  1.  (510),  where  may  be  found  a  collection  of 
inscriptions  referring  to  the  Taurobolium  and  Kriobolium.]  8.  [Re- 
futat.,  iv.  28,  sq.]  9.  [Hierocles,  Phot.,  Bibl.  Cod.,  214.]  10.  [Por- 
phjrry,  Plotini  Vita,  10.]  11.  [Apparently  condensed  from  Plot.,  En- 
nead.,  iv.,  lib.  i.,  1.]  12.  [Prasf.  lib.  de  philosophia  ex  oraculis,  cited 
Euseb.,  Praep.  Ev.,  iv.  7.]  13.  Philostrat.,  Vit.  ApoUon.,  iv.  24.  14. 
Ibid.,  iv.  45.  15.  Ibid.,  vi.  19.  16.  Ibid.,  iv.  3.  17.  [Ibid.,  viii.  10, 
12.]  18.  [Ibid.,  viii.  30.  Uhlhorn  says  "in  the  island  of  Rhodes;" 
Philostratus  mentions  this  version  of  the  story,  but  connects  the  voice 
from  heaven  with  Crete,  not  with  Lindus  in  Rhodes.]  19.  De  Rossi, 
Insc.  Christ,  urbis  Romae,  p.  9.  20.  Ad  Scapul.,  4.  21.  Apol.  37. 
22.  [E^useb.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  21.]  23.  Cf.  passages  in  Tert.,  de  Spect.,  1, 
3;  de  Idolol.,  13,  14;  de  Cultu  Fem.,ii.  11.    24.  Tert.,  de  Coron.,  1. 

25.  T«)rt.,  de  Idolol.,  14.  "  8ed  enim  plerique  jam  induxerunt  animo 
ignoscendum  esse,  si  quando  quce  ethnici,  faciunt,  ne  nomen  blcuh 
phemetur."  Cf.  de  Cult.  Fem.,  ii.  11.  26.  Tert.,  de  Fuga in  Pers.,  12. 
27.  [On  this  subject  cf.  Lightfoot's  Essay  (Philippians,  p.  179,  sq.), 
and  Fisher  (Beginnings  of  Christianity,  p.  550,  sq.)]  28.  [Yet  how 
strong  was  this  bond  may  be  seen  from  Clem.  Rom.,  Ep.  i.  ad  Cor., 
particularly  the  portions  recently  discovered  (cc.  58-63.)]  29.  [Dial 
c  Tryph.  39.]    30.  Tert.,  Apol.  32,  39.    31.  Orig.  c.  Cels.,  viiL  S& 


nr.l  NOTSa  495 


CHAPTER  IV. 

1.  Dion.  Cass.,  Hist.  Eom.,  bndi.  4.  Hippo  yt.,  Refutat.,  ix.  7. 
2.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  21.  Hieron.,  de  vir.  illustr.,  40, 42.  Of  course 
the  details  of  the  story  awaken  incredulity.  3.  Tert ,  ad  Scapul., 
4.  4.  Spartian.  Sever.,  17.  6.  Tert.,  de  Fuga  in  Pers.,  12;  Ruinart, 
p.  120.  6.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  vi.  1,  2,6.  7.  Ruinart,  p.  86.  8.  Ibid., 
p.  26.  9.Lamprid.,  Alex.  Sever.,  28  (29);  50  (51);  48  (49).  10.  No 
more  is  implied  in  the  words  of  Lampridius  (21  (22)):  JudoeU 
privilegia  reservavit,  Christianos  esse  passus  est.  Cf .  Gorres,  Zeitschr. 
fiir  w!ss.  Theol.,  1877,  p.  48,  sq.  11.  Jul.  Capitolin.,  Maximin.,  19. 
12.  H.  Eccl.,  vi.  28.  13.  Lipsius,  Chronol.  d.  rom.  Bischofe,  p.  194, 
sq.  14.  [Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  vi.  17;  Pallad.,  Episc.  HelenopoL,  Hist 
Lausiaca,  c.  147.  (Migne,  Patrol.  Lat.,  vol.  Ixxiii.  p.  1091.)J  15. 
Origen,  in  Matt.,  xxiv.  9;  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  vi.  28;  Firmilian,  Ep.  ad 
Cyprian,  Ep.  75,  10.  [We  number  C3rprian's  Epp.  according  to  the 
edition  of  Hartel  (Wien,  1871),  coinciding,  with  the  Oxf.  Transl.] — 
On  the  whole  subject  cf.  Gorres,  Zeitschr.  fiir  wiss.  Theol.,  1876,  p.  526, 
sq.,  and  the  review  of  it  by  Hamack,  Theol.  Lit.  Zeitung,  [31  Marz.] 
1877,  p.  167.  16.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  vi.  34,  36. ;  Jerome  (Chronic,  ann., 
256.)  calls  him  the  first  Christian  Emperor.  17.  Cyprian,  Ep.  xi.  18. 
De  Lapsis,  8.  19.  For  all  these  details,  cf.  Cyprian's  Epp.  and  de  Lap- 
sis.  20.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  vi.  39.  21.  Lipsius,  lib.  cit.,  p.  210,  doubts 
the  martyrdom  of  the  last  two,  and  regards  them  as  only  confessors. 
Cf.  also  Kraus,  Roma  Sotterranea,  p.  142  [Northcote  and  Brownlow, 
Rom.  Sott.,  p.  142.]  22.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  vi.  41.  Cf.  Ruinart,  Acta,  p. 
124.  23.  Martyrolog.  Roman.,  May,  3d.  24.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  vi.  39. 
25.  [Greg.  Turon.,  Hist.  Franc,  i.28  (Migne,  Patrol.  Lat.,  Ixxi.  p.  175, 
sq.)  Tillemont,  Memoires,  &c.,  iii.,  p.  299,  sq.]  26.  Cypr.,  Epp. 
19,  17,  13,  5.  27.  Cypr.,  Ep.  22.  28.  Cypr.,  Ep.  40.  29.  Ep.  11.  [Oxf. 
TransL  in  the  main.]  30.  Cypr.,  Ep.  49;  de  Lapsis.  31.  Cypr.,  Epp. 
58,  59;  Lib.  ad  Demetrianum.  32.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  vii.  il. ;  Acta 
Cypriani,  Ruinart,  p.  216.  Sanctissimi  impp.  Valerianus  el  Gallienua 
proeceperant,  ne  in  aliquihus  locis  conciliabula  fiant,  ne  coemeteria  in- 
grediantur.  33.  Cypr.,  Ep.  80.  34.  Otherwise  Lipsius,  lib.  cit.,  p, 
222;  cf.  Ambrose,  de  Offic,  i.  41.  35.  Cf.  Kraus,  lib.  cit.,  p.  91,  sq. 
[Northcote  and  Brownlow,  p.  88.]  36.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  vii.  13,  23. 
87.  The  view  is  very  generally  taken  that  Gallienus  proclaimed  Chris- 
tianity a.religio  licita:  So  Neander,  Gieseler,  Herzog  (Kirchengesch. 
p.  55),  Grorres  (Zeitschr.  fiir  wiss.  Theol.,  1877,  i.  p.  606),  and  even 
Mason  (The  Persecution  of  Diocletian  (Cambridge,  1876),  p.  29.) 
Eusebius  knows  nothing  of  any  such  edict,  and  narrates  the  martyr< 


496  NOTES.  [BOOK  m. 

dom  of  Marlnus  as  under  Gallienus  (Hist.  Eccl.,  vii.  16).  Marinuf 
is  usually  placed  under  the  usurper  Macrianus,  but  without  evidence, 
Keim  (Ans  dem  Urchristenthum,  p.  130,  note  1.)  recognizes  no  edict  oi 
toleration  from  Gallienus.  38.  Cf.  Cypr.,  Epp.  18,  20.  39.  Cypr., 
Ep.  17.  40.  According  to  Cypr.,  Ep.  20,  the  confessors  had  distrib- 
uted milia  Ubellorum  pads.    41.  Cypr.,  Ep.  21. 


BOOK  in.,   CHAPTER  I. 

1.  [The  title  of  the  treatise  is  De  testimonio  aninuB,  and  the  phr&M 
**the  soul  by  nature  Christian"  does  not  occur  in  it,  but  Apol.  c.  17. 
Still  the  phrase  fairly  describes  the  subject  of  the  treatise.]  2.  [Orig. 
c.  Cels.,  i.  30.]  3.  Ad  Scapul.,  2.  [Oxf.  Transl.];  Apol.  24  [Oxf. 
TransL]  4.  Cf.  Burckhardt,  Die  Zeit  Constantins  d.  Gr.,  [Basel, 
1853;  p.  333,  »j.]  Wietersheim,  Volkerwanderung,  iii.  pp.  163,  483. 
6  Lactant.,  de  Mort.  Pers.,  27.  6.  Vopisc,  Probus,  14.  7.  Vopisc, 
Numerian.,  14,  15.  8.  [Zosimus,  ii.  10  (ed.  Bekker,  p.  75,  1.  11.)] 
Aurel.  Vict.,  Hist.  Kom.,  Caes.,  xxxix.  48.  Lact.,  de  Mort.  Pers.,  10: 
ut  erat  pro  timore  scrutator  rerum  futurarum.  9.  Lact.,  Ibid.j 
10,  11.  10.  Panegyr.  Incerti,  v.  12:  Recipe  Jupiter  quce  comma- 
dasti.  [Panegyr.  Vett.,  W.  Jaeger,  Norimb.  1778,  i.  p.  353.]  11.  Joh. 
Malalas.,  xii.,  p.  310.  12.  Lact.,  de  Mort.  Pers.,  10.  13.  Cf.  Ep.of 
Theonas  (Kouth,  Keliq.  Sacr.,  iii.  p.  43,  9.)  which  I  regard  as  belong- 
•  ing  to  this  period.  14.  Lact.,  de  Mort.  Pers.,  15.  15.  Lact.,  Inst.  v.  2. 
Mordacius  scripsit  —  composuit  enim  libellos  duos  non  contra  Christi- 
anoSy  ne  inimice  insectari  videretur,  sed  ad  Christianos  ut  humane 
ac  benigne  consulere  putaretur.  16.  Lact.,  de  Mort.  Pers.,  11.  17. 
Kuinart,  p.  302,  sq.  18.  Opinions  still  differ  about  Diocletian,  yet 
a  reconciliation  seems  approaching.  Till  recently,  by  setting  aside 
the  testimony  of  Lactantius  (de  Mort.  Pers.),  the  persecution  has 
been  explained  as  arising  solely  from  Diocletian's  political  views  and 
his  personal  attitude  towards  Heathenism,  but  Mason  (lib.  cit. )  goes 
to  the  other  extreme.  He  makes  Diocletian  a  kind  of  Constantino 
who  was  only  forced  against  his  will  to  play  the  part  of  Decius.  Cf. 
the  review  by  Harnack  (Theol.  Lit.  Zeitung,  1877,  p.  169.)  The  truth 
lies  midway  between.  19.  Hierocles  is  designated  by  Lactantiui 
(Inst.  V.  2,  and  de  Mort.  Pers.,  16)  as  the  real  fountain-^ead  of  the 
persecution.  20.  Euseb.,  Yit.  Const ,  50,  51.  Lact.,  de  Mort.  Pers., 
11 :  hanc  moderationem  tenere  conatios  est,  ut  earn  rem  sine  sanguine, 
transigi  ji.beret.  21.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  viii.2;  Mart.,  Palaest.  proieg., 
I.  Lact.,  de  Mort.  Pers.,  13.  Cf.  Mason,  lib.  cit.,  App.,  p.  343.  22, 
*^  Legitime  coctus"  (Lact.,de  Mort.  Pers.,  13.)    23.  Ruinart,  p.  882. 


n.]  NOTES.  497 

(Acta  Satumini,  Dativi,  &c.)  24.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  viii.  6.  §  8.  86. 
Ibid.,  §  10.  26.  Euseb.,  Mart.  Palaest.,  3.  §  1.  Mason  (lib.  cit.,  p. 
212)  believes  that  in  the  Pcissio  8.  Sabini  the  edict  is  to  be  found 
in  a  more  authentic  form.  But  the  whole  character  of  this  Passio 
renders  this  doubtful.  27.  The  inscriptions  still  often  quoted,  in 
which  Diocletian  is  described  as  the  destroyer  of  the  Christian  name, 
I  hold  to  be  spurious.  Cf.  Mason,  lib.  cit.,  p.  217.  28.  Euseb.,  H. 
KccL,  viii.  11.  §  1.  29.  Lact.,  de  Mort.  Pers.,  21.  30.  Cf.  on  Mutda- 
tion,  Keim,  Aus  dem  Urchristenthum,  p.  198,  sq,  31.  Euseb.,  H. 
Eccl.,  viii.,  and  Mart.  Falsest.  32.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  viii.  12.  Am- 
brose and  Chrysostom  treat  them  simply  as  martyrs ;  Jerome  (ad  Jonse, 
1. 12.)  expressly  justifies  them.  Otherwise  Augustine,  De  Civit.  Dei,  i. 
26.  33.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  viii.  17.  Lact.,  de  Mort.  Pers.,  34.  84. 
Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  ix.  1-8.        

CHAPTER  n. 

1.  [Euseb.,  Vit.  Const.,  i.  40.]  2.  Euseb.,  Vit.  Const,  1.  2&-82. 
Differently  Lact.,  de  Mort.  Pers.,  44.  3.  Constan tine's  course  is 
viewed  as  wholly  political  by  Burckhardt  (lib.  cit. ).  Keim  (Der  Ueber- 
fcritt  Constantins  d.  Gr.  zum  Christenthum,  Ziirich,  1862)  brings  out 
the  religious  motives.  With  Zahn  (Constantin  d.  Gr.  und  die  Kirche, 
Hanover,  1876)  these  become  still  more  prominent.  Cf.  also  Dieck- 
hofe  (Rostock  Theol.  Zeitschr.,  1863,  iv.  1.)  4.  Lact.,  de  Mort.  Pers., 
48.  Hactenus  jiet,  ut  sicut  superius  comprehensum  est,  Divinus  jwxta 
nos  favor,  quern  in  tantis  sumus  rebus  experti,  per  omne  tempus  pros- 
pere  successibu^  nostris  cum  beatitudine  nostra  publica  perseveret 
6.  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  ix.  9.  6.  I  stand  by  this  view  of  the  crossHStory. 
K  Keim  (lib.  cit.,  p.  23,  sq.)  has  shown  many  of  the  details  to  be 
incredible,  even  impossible,  that  does  not  rob  the  story  of  a  historic 
basis.  And  when  Zahn  (lib.  cit.,  p.  14.)  gets  rid  of  the  story  by  say- 
ing that  the  Crucified  One  could  have  shown  His  cross  to  Constantine 
jnly  as  a  means  of  salvation,  but  not  as  an  instrument  of  magic,  he 
makes  a  twofold  mistake.  For,  first,  when  Constantine  told  the 
itory,  the  cross  was  no  longer  to  him  a  mere  instrument  of  magic,  and, 
second,  Zahn  ignores  the  fact,  that  Grod  does  condescend  to  those 
who  are  only  on  the  way  to  faith.  7.  Hitherto  it  has  been  assumed 
(even  by  Herzog,  lib.  cit.,  p.  59)  that  there  weie  (besides  the  one 
Issued  by  Galerius,  A.D.  311)  two  edicts  of  toleradon,  one  A.D.  312, 
and  one  31S.  It  is  true  Keim  [Theol.  Jahrb.,  1852,  p.  217]  had  shown 
that  this  was  a  mistake,  but  from  the  circumstance  that  the  edict  ol 
313  refers  to  limitations  of  toleration,  he  concluded  that  Constantint 
and  Licinius  must  have  issued  together,  in  312,  an  edict  which  tele- 


498  NOTES.  [BOOK  in 

rated  Christianity  only  at  a  disadvantage.  Zalin  (lib.  cit.,  p.  33)  and 
Mason  (lib.  cit,  p.  327,  note)  have  shown  that  the  references  of  the 
edict  of  313  are  not  to  any  previous  edict,  but  to  the  no  longer  extant 
directions  to  the  officials  which  accompanied  the  edict  of  Galerius, 
A^D.  311.  There  was  no  edict  of  A.D.  312.  [For  the  edict  of  Milan 
see  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl.,  x.  5.]  8.  [Migne,  Patrol.  Lat.,  viii.  p.  180;  Cod. 
Theodos.,  xvi.  2. 1-7;  Euseb.,  H.  Eccl., x.  7.]  9.  [Euseb.,  Vita  Const., 
i.  42;  ii.  21, 45;  iv.  26,  28;  H.  Eccl.,  x.  6.]  10.  ^Cod.  Theodos.,  xvi. 
2.  4.]  11.  [Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  i.  8;  cf.  Aug.  Serm.,  Ixxxviii.  (ed. 
Bened.,  T.  v.)  and  the  comments  of  Jac.  Gothofredus  in  Cod.  Theo- 
dos.,  ix.  12.  1;  ix.  18.  1.]  12.  [Migne,  p.  119,  sq.;  Cod.  Theodos.,  ix. 
40.  2. ;  Cod.  Just.,  ix.  47.]  13.  [Migne,  p.  293,  sg.;  Cod.  Theodos., 
XV.  12.  1,  2;  Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  i.  18;  Sozom.,  i.  8;  Euseb.,  Vita  Const., 
iv.  25.]  14.  [Migne,  p.  198;  Cod.  Theodos.,  ix.  3.  1.]  15.  [Celibate 
and  childless:  Migne,  p.  189;  Cod.  Theodos.,  viii.  16.  1.  Adultery: 
Migne,  pp.  298,  sg.,  307,  sg.,  312,  sq.;  Cod.  Theodos.,  ix.  7.  1,  2;  ix. 
J.  1.  Kape:  Migne,  p.  194;  Cod.  Theodos.,  ix.  24.  1.  Incest:  Migne, 
p.  397;  Cod.  Theodos.,  iii.  17.  1,  2;  Cod.  Just.,  v.  5.  3.  Divorce: 
Migne,  p.  353,  sq.;  Cod.  Theodos.,  iii.  16.  1.]  16.  [The  exposure  of 
children  does  not  seem  to  have  been  expressly  forbidden,  but  Con- 
stantine  sought  to  suppress  it  by  removing  all  the  motives  for  it,  and 
Christian  writers  unequivocally  condemned  the  practice.  Cf.  Lac* 
tant.,  Inst.,  vi.  20.  Tarn  igitur  nefarium  est  exponere  quam  necare ; 
Cod.  Theodos.,  xi.  27.  1,  2;  v.  8.  1,  with  the  comments  of  Gothofre- 
dus; Cod.  Just.,  vi.  8.  1.]  17.  [Migne,  p.  121;  Cod.  Theodos.,  xi. 
27.  1.]  18.  [Migne,  p.  236,  «g.,  397;  Cod.  Theodos.,  xi.  27.  2.]  19 
[Migne,  p.  214,  sg.,  223,  sq.;  Cod.  Theodos.,  iv.  7. 1.]  20.  [Euseb., 
Vita  Const.,  iv.  18,  23;  Cod.  Theodos.,  ii.  8.  1;  venerabili  die  solis, 
Cod.  Just.,  iii.  12,  3.]  21.  [Euseb.,  Vita  Const.,  iv.  19,  sq.;  Migne,  p. 
73,  sg.;  Cod.  Just.,  iii.  12.  1,  3;  Schaff,  Ch.  Hist.,  ii.  106.]  22. 
[Migne,  p.  202;  Cod.  Theodos.,  xvi.  10.  1,  3;  Euseb.,  Vita  Const.,  iii. 
55,  58;  iv.  25.]  23.  [Cod.  Theodos.,  ix.  16.  1,  2;  Neander,  Ch.  ffist. 
(2d  Am.  ed.),  ii.  p.  20,  n.  4.]  24.  [Euseb.,  Vita  Const.,  iv.  62;  cf. 
Heinichen  in  loc.  (vol.  iii.  p.  566);  the  meaning  of  Constantine'i 
words  is  doubtful.]  26.  [Euseb.,  Vita  Const.,  iv.  62.]  26.  On  the  per- 
secution  by  Licinius,  cf.  Gorres :  Kritische  Untersuchung  der  Licini* 
anischen  Christenverfolgung,  Jena,  1875.  27.  Euseb.,  Vita  Const., 
i.  51-53.  28.  Ibid.,  ii.  20.  29.  This  is  plain  from  the  subsequent 
edict  of  Constantine  in  A.D.  324.  [Cf.  Euseb.,  Vita  Const.,  ii.  30-41; 
Migne,  Patrol.  Lat.,  viii.  p.  265,  sq.]  30.  Cf.  Gcrres,  lib.  cit.,  p.  104, 
sg.  31.  Euseb.,  Vit.  Const.,  ii.  5.  32.  Ibid.,  ii.  56.  83.  [Ibid.,  iii. 
49.]  84.  [IMd.,  iii.  3.]  »5.  [Julian  Imp.,  Csesares  (ed.  Spanheim, 
1696,  p.  329,0.)] 


caiAP.  m.]  NOTES.  499 


CHAPTER  in. 

1.  I  Ambrose,  relat.  Symmachi  respondet  (Ep.  1. 18.  §  31,  sg.,  p.  886) . 
relatio  Symmachi,  urbis  prsefecti  (§45,  p.  872)  state  that  the  altat 
was  removed  by  Constantius.]  2.  [Euseb.,  vita  Const.,  iv.  17,  29,  55.] 
S.  [lUd.y  iii.  16-23;  Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  1.  17,  20,  21.]  4.  Euseb.,  vita 
Const.,  iv.  24.  5.  [Cf.  Cod.  Theodos.,  De  Episcopali  Judicio,  1.]  6. 
Jul.  Finnic.  Matern.,  de  Errore  Prof  an.  Eelig.  [17.  cf.  21,  29.]  7.  Cod, 
Theodos.,  xvi.  10.  2.  8.  Ibid.j  xvi.  10.  4.  9.  [Cf.  Ibid.,  xv.  10.  6;  ix. 
16.  1-8;  Ammian.  Marcell.,  xix.  12.  14:  Si  qui  remedia  QuartancB 
tel  doloHs  alterius  collo  gestaret  .  .  .  pronunciatus  reus  capitis  inte- 
ribat]     10.  [Ammian.    Marcell.,  xv.  2.  7;  Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  2.] 

11.  [Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  1;  Theodoret,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  2;  Sozom.,  H. 
Eccl.,  V.  2;  Greg.  Naz.,  Or.  iii.  p.  58  D  (ed.  Morell.,  Colon.,  1699.)] 

12.  [Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  1;  Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  2;  Greg.  Naz.,  Or. 
iii.  p.  58  C]  13.  [Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  1, 13.]  14.  Libanius  (ed.  Reiske, 
3v.  8°,  Altenburg,  1784-1797).  Epit.  i.  p;  526,  sq.  On  this  part  of 
Julian's  life  cf.  Friedrich  Rode,  Gesch.  der  Reaction  Kaiser  Julians 
gegen  die  Christl.  Kirche,  Jena,  1877,  p.  27,  sq.  15.  [Socr.,  H.  Eccl., 
iii.  1;  Rode,  p.  30.]  16.  [Cf.  Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  1.]  The  exact  date  is 
given  by  Jul.,  Ep.  51,  in  which  Julian  writes  (near  the  end  of  A.D. 
362)  that  he  had  been  a  heathen  eleven  years.  Cf.  Libanius,  Pros- 
phon.,  i.  p.  408;  Rode,  lib.  cit.,  p.  31.  17.  On  Julian's  inner  his- 
tory, cf.  H.  Adrien  Naville,  Julian  I'Apostat  et  sa  philosophic  du 
Polytheism,  Paris,  1877,  p.  5,  sq.  18.  [Jul.  ad  Athen.,  p.  277  A;  Am- 
mian. Marcell.,  xv.  8.  4-17;  Rode,  lib.  cit.,  p.  40.]  19.  Ammian.  Mar- 
cell., xvi.  5.  4-6.  20.  [Ibid.,  xxi.  2.  4.  Rode,  lib.  cit.,  pp.  34,  41.] 
21.  Zosimus,  iii.  8.  22.  Ammian.  Marcell.,  xxii.  5.  1;  Vienne,  Ibid., 
xxi.  2. 5.  23.  [Ammian.  Marcell.,  xxii.  5.]  24.  [J5id.,xxii.  4;  Socr.,  H. 
Eccl.,  iiL  1.]  25.  Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  11.  26.  [Libanius,  Panegyr.,  i.  p. 
394,  sq.]  27.  Jul.,  Epp.  7,  42,  43,  52.  [Rode,  lib.  cit.,  p.  50,  sq.]  28. 
An  Ep.  of  Julian  in  Hei-mes  [Zeitschr.  f .  classiche  Philologie,  ed.  Hiib- 
ner,  Berlin,  1874,  iv.  p.  98;  cf.  Rode,  lib.  cit.,  pp.  39,  69.]  29.  Greg. 
Naz.,  Or.  iii.,  pp.  75,  [83  B;  Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  17;  Theodoret,  H. 
Eccl.,  iii.  16,  sq.]  30.  [Greg.  Naz.,  Or.  iii.  p.  75  D;  Sozom.,  H.  EccL, 
V.  17.]  31.  The  story  is  told,  Greg.  Naz.,  Or.  iii.  [p.  84,  sq.] ;  Sozom., 
H.  Eccl.,  V.  17.  Rode  is  inclined  to  doubt  its  truth,  but  it  rests  on 
good  evidence.  32.  [Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  13;  Theodoret,  H.  Eccl.,  iii 
8.]  33.  [Cod.  Theod.,  x.  3.  1;  xii.  1.  50;  xv.  1.  8,  10;  Cod.  Just., 
xi.  69.  1.  Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  5;  Theodoret,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  6;  Phil- 
ostorg.,  vii.  4.]  34.  Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  5.  [Cf.  Libanius,  Epit.  i. 
p.  564,  Greg.  Naz.,  Or.  iii.  p.  86  D,  sq.]    86.  [Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  14] 


500  NOTES.  [book  m.  chap,  m, 

86.  Jul.,  Ep.  49  to  Arsacius,  High-priest  of  Galatia,  and  Ep.  63  to 
Theodore,  High-priest  of  Asia.  37.  Jul.,  Ep.  42.  38.  [The  law  may  be 
found.  Cod.  Theodos.,  xiii.  3.  5.]  39.  Kufinus,  H.  Eccl.,  i.  32  [also 
Theodoret,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  8]  erroneously  gives  the  law  the  latter  mean- 
ing. [Against  this,  Julian's  words  Ep.  42 :  *'  We  would  not  throw  any 
obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  youth  (among  the  Christians)  wh  >  wish  to 
go  (to  classic  lectures) "  are  decisive.  On  this  whole  subject  cf.  Am- 
mian.  MarcelL,  xxii.  10.  7;  xxv.  4.  20;  Theodoret.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  8; 
Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  12,  16.;  Greg.  Naz.,  Or.  iii.  pp.  51,  sg.,  97.;  also 
Rode,  lib.  cit.,  p.  66  and  note.]  40.  [Greg.  Naz.,  Or.  iii.  p.  97  B.^ 
41.  [Cf.  Greg.  Naz.,  Or.  iv.  p.  122  D.]  42.  [Cf.  Ibid.,  iii.  p.  51,  sq.] 
43.  Rufinus,  H.  Eccl.,  i.  35  [Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  19,  20].  44.  [Jul., 
Misopog.  (ed.  Spanheim),  p.  363.]  45.  The  Misopogon,  the  chief 
original  document  on  Julian's  stay  in  Antioch.  46.  [Jul.,  Misopog., 
p.  338,  sq.,  360,  sq.,  et  passim.  On  Julian's  sacrifices  cf.  Ammian. 
Marcell.,  xxii.  14;  xxv.  4;  Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  19;  Socr.,  H.  Eccl., 
iii.  17.]  47.  Ammian.  Marcellin.,  xxii.  13.  48.  [Ibid.,  xxiL  13.  1,  3. 
Misopog.,  pp.  346,361.]  49.  [Ammian.  Marcellin.,  xxii.  13.  2;  Soz- 
om., H.  Eccl.,  V.  8;  Theodoret,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  12.]  50.  [Rufinus,  H. 
Eccl.,  i.  32 ;  Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  13.]  61.  [Theodoret,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  13.] 
52.  [Ibid.,  iii.,  16.]  53.  [Ibid.]  54.  [Greg.  Naz.,  Or.  iii.  p.  92  A.]  66. 
[Greg.  Naz.,  Or.  iii.  p.  91  B.]  56.  [Ammian.  Marcell.,  xxiii.  2.  3.]  67. 
[Theodoret,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  23;  slightly  different,  Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  vi.  2.] 
58.  [On  the  campaign  cf.  Ammianus  Marcell.,  xxiv.,  xxv. ;  Theodoret, 
H.  Eccl.,  iii.  25;  Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  12,  sq.;  Zosimus,  iii.  11-29,  <fec.] 
69.  Ammian,  who  was  in  the  army,  narrates  Julian's  death,  xxv. 
3.  1.  The  doubt  whether  the  fatal  spear  came  from  among  the  Per- 
sians, or  from  some  one  in  the  Roman  army,  is  of  very  early  origin. 
The  heathen  [notably  Libanius,  Socr.,  H.  Eccl.  vi.  1,  2]  accused  the 
Christians  of  treacherously  murdering  the  Emperor;  but  the  way  in 
which  Ammian  mentions  this  iiimor  gives  no  ground  for  the  accusa- 
tion. 60.  [Philostorgius,  H.  Eccl.,  vii.  15;  Theodoret,  H.  Eccl.,  iii. 
25;  Sozom.  vi.  2.]  The  cry,  "Nazarene  (or  Galilean),  thou  hast  con- 
quered," is  not  found  earlier  than  Theodoret,  and  cannot  therefore 
be  regarded  as  possessing  much  evidence  in  its  favor.  Here,  as 
often,  legend  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  hero  a  word  not  really 
historical,  but  expressive  of  the  real  historical  situation,  and  there- 
fore, when  once  invented,  always  brought  into  the  story.  61.  [Rufi- 
nus, H.  Eccl.,  i.  32;  Socr.,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  14;  Sozom.,  H.  Eccl.,  v.  5; 
Theodoret,  H.  Eccl.,  iii.  5:  yet  no  one  of  these  contains  exactly  thA 
tonn  nubecula  est,  transibit.] 


DSDEX 


Abgar  Bar  ICMin,  MS. 

Abitina,  410. 

Abonoteichos,  818. 

Abraham,  82. 

Achatius,  martyr,  234. 

Acte,  94,  246. 

Adonis,  myth  of,  82,  88;  gardens,  443, 

454, 
.(Elian,  313. 

^schylus,  72, 120 ;   monximent  to,  192. 
.^sculapius,  59,  319. 
Agatha,  368. 
Africa,  19,  59,  83,  111,  113,  127,  273,  342, 

356,  376,  410,  425,  431. 
Agape.    See  Love-Feast. 
Agrippa,  King,  122. 
Agrippa,  the  lake  of,  103. 
Agrippina,  94. 
Alcibiades,  97,  99. 
Alemanni,  362. 

Alexander  the  Great,  65,  98,  478,  475. 
Alexander  Severus,  272  sq.,  313,  317,  334, 

359  sq, 
Alexander  of  Abonoteichos,  318-320,  325. 
Alexander,  Bishop  of  Jerusalem,  869. 
Alexandria,  17,  20,  25,  60,  64,  113,  356, 

368   sq.;   Jews  in,  83,  84:  church  of, 

220. 
Almsgiving.    See  Church. 
Alps,  the,  68,  424;  Pass  of  St.  Bernard, 

30. 
Amatius,  262. 
Ambrosias,  360. 
Ammonius,  326  %q. 
Amulets,  17,  63,  317,  452. 
Amphitheatres,  the,  124  aq. 
Ajiacreon,  74. 
Anatolia,  368. 
Andra'w,  the  apostle,  220. 
Anna  Perenna,  festival  of,  43. 
Annona,  55. 

Anti-Christ  (Nero),  248  sq. 
AntinouB,  deification  of,  62,  487. 
Antioch,  17,  20,  83, 113,  262,  362,  369,  402, 

442,  453,  461,  470,472;  benevolence  of 

church  of,  203;  missionary  centre,  219; 

cathedral  of,  474;  numeroas  member- 

■hip  of  its  church,  402. 


Antloehns  the  Oreat,  8S. 

Antipas,  martyr,  251. 

Autium,  245. 

Ajitisthenes,  144. 

Antoninus,  Arrius,  262;   Pius,  SOS    «f« 

264;  Marcus  Aurelius.    Bee  Marcus, 
Anubis,  314. 
Aper,  398. 
Aphrodite,  144;  Anadyomene,  98;  Oni- 

dian,  ib. 
Apollo,  36,  89,  296,  819,  447,  470;   th« 

Milesian,  407. 
Apollodorus,  98. 
Apollonia,  369. 
Apollonius,  356. 

Apollonius  of  Tyana,  279,  331-333. 
Apologies,  266  sq.,  891  sq. 
Apologists,  266  aq.,  281,  391  aq. 
Apostles'  Creed,  the,  348. 
Apostles,  church  of  the,  442. 
Apostles,  death  of  (Peter  and  Paul),  248l 
Appian  Way,  the,  67,  83. 
Apuleius,  314,  320  sq. 
Aquila,  221. 
Arcadia,  46. 

Arius,  Arianism,  449,  463. 
Aristides,  265. 

Aristotle,  97, 105, 132,  276,  326,  467. 
Aristophanes,  47. 
Aristophanes  of  Byzantium,  98. 
Armenia  Minor,  439. 
Artabius,  461. 
Artemidorus,  318. 
Artemis,  45. 
Arvales,  the,  44,  60. 
Aschera,  33. 
Asia,  16,  33. 

Asia  Minor,  23, 32,  83,  84,  288, 842. 
Asinius  Pollio,  24,  80. 
Aspasia,  98,  99. 
Astarte,  63. 
Athanasius,  445,  477. 
Athenagoras,  165, 166,  266  sq.,  296, 320. 
Athene,  37,  70. 

Athens,  19,  21,  23,  25,  27,.29, 106,  264,  4Tt 
Atheism,  51. 
Atlas,  Mount,  94. 
AUellanu,  120. 
Atticus,  132. 


o02 


INDEX. 


Attys,  314. 

Audientes,  389. 

Augustus,  13, 15, 16,  24,  88,  62,  54,  67,  64, 

109,  110,  121,  135, 136,  278. 
Augustus  (the  title),  397,  406,  413 
Augustales,  59. 
Aurelian,  110,  376,  395. 
Aurelius.    See  Marcus. 
Autolycus.    See  Theophihu. 
Avidius  Cassias,  293. 

Baal,  33. 

Babylas,  369,  471. 

Babylon,  82,  219. 

Babylonia,  83. 

Bacchanalia,  the,  64. 

Bar  Cocheba,  254. 

Barnabas,  155, 186  ;  on  giving,  197. 

Bartholemew,  the  apostle,  220. 

Basilides,  357. 

Bellona,  459. 

Benevolence,  of  the  Christians,  191-204; 
not  a  virtue  of  antiquity,  191  sq.;  in- 
stances of  among  the  heathen,  273  aq. 

Bernard,  St.,  the  Pass  of,  temple  of  Ju- 
piter in,  30. 

Bethlehem,  442. 

Bible,  a  heathen,  330. 

Bishops,  201,  349-351,  450. 

Bithynia,  255. 

Black  Sea,  the,  HI. 

Blandina,  255  sq. 

Bosphorus,  436,  442,447. 

Britain,  18,  83, 145. 

Burial-clubs,  195,  238. 

Byzantinism,  449. 

Cadiz,  15. 

Csecllius,  224;  arguments  against  Chris- 
tianity, 225-231. 

Cfflculus,  31. 

Caesar,  Julius,  105, 109, 123;  his  supersti- 
tion, 62 ;  his  deification  by  the  people, 
56;  his  scepticism,  75;  the  title,  397, 
412  sq.  ;  the  Csesar-gods,  69. 

Caius,  126. 

Caligula,  60,  71,  96, 100, 138. 

Callistus,  catacomb  of,  222. 

Campania,  30. 

Camulodunum,  19. 

Candelifera,  31. 

Candle  hymn,  183, 184. 

Candidus.    See  VesproniuB. 

Cannae,  123. 

Canon.    See  Church. 

Capitol,  the,  65, 123. 

Capitoline  Hill,  315. 

Cappadocia,  360,  456. 

Captivity,  The,  82. 

Caracalla,  276,  310, 320,  869. 

Cardea,  31. 

Carlsburg,  320. 

Carpenter,  Jesus  the,  188,  469,  473. 

Carthage,  264,  339,  351,  357,  370,  376,  378. 

Cassius,  C.,  Speech  of,  136, 137. 

Catacombs,  the,  153,  209,  222, 238,  368,372, 
■6U,  376 

Catechumenate.    See  Church. 


Cato,  80,  75, 184, 136,  276,  286. 

CelerinuB,  378. 

Celibacy,  lavrB  against,  102, 174;  relatloi 
of  Christianity  to,  176. 

Celsus,  158, 159,  229,  233,  209,  278  »q.,  293, 
296-306,  334,  353. 

Ceres,  32. 

Ceylon,  36. 

Chaldeans,  63,  66. 

Charlemagne,  443. 

Cherchell,  490. 

Childlessness,  102. 

Children,  102 ;  eflfect  of  slavery  upon,  138 ; 
rights  of,  182  sq.,  272  $q. ;  baptism  of, 
183;  training  of,  273;  charities  for, 
273  sq. 

Chrestus,  242. 

Christ,  66,  152,  155,  156  sq.,  passim;  a 
heathen  counterpart  to,  279,  331-334. 
See  Jesus,  Carpenter,  Nazarene. 

Christianity,  aids  to  its  extension,  21,  90; 
its  influence  on  the  study  of  nature, 
68;  effect  of  its  offer  of  eternal  life,  77, 
160 ;  first  introduced  true  benevolence, 
110 ;  true  humanity  its  product,  141 ;  its 
restorative  power,  143;  relation  in,  be- 
tween faith  and  life,  ih. ;  expected 
universal  dominion,  152;  its  resources 
in  opposition  to  Heathenism,  152;  im- 
pression made  by  it  on  the  heathen, 
\hZsq. ;  how  preached,  156, 157 ;  for  the 
poor  and  sinful,  157-159 ;  recognized  the 
rights  of  children,  182;  transformed 
the  relation  between  masters  and  ser- 
vants, 184,  185;  required  benevolence, 
191 ;  its  encounter  with  the  Roman  State, 
217  sq.  (see  Persecution) ;  its  absolute 
claims,  218 ;  how  first  diffused,  221 ;  by 
whom  received,  221-223 ;  by  whom  de- 
spised, 223-226 ;  early  preached  in  Rome, 
241;  first  collision  with  Heathenism, 
249 ;  completion  of  its  separation  from 
Judaism,  253;  became  an  illegal  reli- 
gion, 255;  influence,  264-282;  method  of 
the  Apologists  in  its  defence,  266  sq.; 
attack  of  Celsus  on,  158,  159,  297  sq. ; 
re-action  in,  336-354.  See  Christians^ 
Church. 

Christians,  the  early,  refuse  to  worship 
the  Emperor,  60, 61,  233, 234;  congrega- 
tional life  among,  164, 165 ;  their  conduct, 
165-190;  surrounded  by  heathen  cus- 
toms, 171-173;  charges  against,  226-234; 
why  adjudged  guilty  of  treason,  231- 
234;  how  protected,  238,  239.  See  JS«. 
nevolence,   Church,  Martyrdom,    Wor- 

Church,  the,  its  discipline,  173,  174,  330- 
342,  344,  377  sq.;  regulated  duties  of 
master  and  slave,  188-7;  collegia  illi- 
cita,  237 ;  martyrs  of,  247,  249,  253,  260, 
262,  288-291,  295  sq.,  339,  356-359,  366, 
368-376,  405  sq.,  410,  415  sq.,  439,  472; 
purity  and  simplicity  of,  249 ;  as  a  com 
munity,  270;  its  influence,  270,  271  sq.^ 
402;  of  the  people,  338  sq. ;  persecu- 
tions of,  flight  from,  211,  212;  the  ten, 
286;   under  Nero   245-250;   £>omitian4 


INDEX. 


508 


152  MQ.;  Trajan,  255-262;  Hadrian.  262 
sq. ;  Antoninus  Pius,  262  aq. ;  Marcus 
Aurelius,  287-297;  Commodus,  359; 
Septimius  Severus,  356  so.;  Maximi- 
nus  the  Thracian,  360;  Decius,  365; 
Gallus,  373;  Valerian,  373;  Gallienus, 
376;  Diocletian,  407-411;  Galerius,  412- 
417;  Maximinus  Daza,  419-423;  Maxen- 
tius,  ibvi.;  Licinius,  438-440;  Julian, 
468  sq. ;  a  conventicle,  336  sq. ;  pietism, 
337;  in  time  of  persecution,  339  sq., 
367  sq.:  tradition,  347  sq.;  canon,  348; 
naturalization  of,  on  earth,  344;  officers 
of,  34»-351;  polity,  349-352;  ecclesias- 
ticism  in,  350-352;  its  confessors,  372, 
877-381;  almsgiving  and  benevolence  of, 
202, 203,  370,  468 ;  worship,  372, 386-389 ; 
catechumenate,  387  sq. ;  and  State,  443 
sq.,  449  sq.  Cf.  also  Bishops,  Creed, 
Deacons,  Laity,  Lapsed,  Lord's  Sup- 
per, Presbyter,  Priest. 

Cicero,  34,  43,  63,  64,  69,  74, 132, 193,  272, 
276,  285. 

Circus,  the,  124. 

Cu-cus  Maxunus,  119, 122, 123. 

Claudiales,  the,  59. 

Claudius,  19,  54,  57,  61,  96, 109, 128, 134. 

Clemens.    See  Flavins . 

Clement  of  Alexandria,  on  marriage,  175. 

Clement  of  Rome,  153  «g.,  247. 

Cleophas,  262. 

Colchester  19. 

Commodus,  273,  306,  809,  334,  838,  855. 

Como,  274. 

Competentes,  389. 

Confessors.    See  Church. 

Constans,  452. 

Constantius,  Chlorus,  412;  brother  of  Con- 
stantine,  455;  son  of  Constantine,  452- 
462,  466. 

Constantine  the  Great,  413,  419-452,  455 
sq.,  462.  478 ;  H.,  452. 

Corinth,  17,  23,  59. 

Constantinople,  4G6,  459,  465. 

Conventicle.    Bee  Church. 

Cornelius,  368. 

Corn-laws,  109. 

Council,  the  supreme,  86. 

Crassus,  104. 

Creed.    See  Apostles^  Church. 

Crescens,  269,  290. 

Crete,  86,  833. 

Cross,  the,  and  Constantine,  42&-431;  pun- 
ishment of  the,  abolished,  434. 

Ctesiphon,  474. 

Cunina,  31. 

Curubis,  374. 

Cybele,  63. 

Cynics,  the,  147. 

Cyprian,  199,  201,  208,  2U,  861,  868,  368 
sq.,  369,  372,  374  sq. 

Dacia,  395,  459. 

Dalmatia,  398. 

Damascus,  89. 

Danube,  the,  15, 18, 24,  66, 88,  86. 

Daphne,  470. 

Deaconesses,  177, 198, 281. 


Deacons,  340. 

Decius,  201, 237,  J61, 866, 878, 411,  Ub, 

Delphi,  41,  59. 

Demeter,  323. 

Demosthenes,  98,  469. 

De  Rossi,  222. 

Diana,  48,  59,  313,  362,  487. 

Diaspora,  the,  82. 

Diocletian,  146,  317,  330,  39a-414, 444. 

Diognetus,  Epistle  to,  166, 167,  268,  486. 

Diomed,  70. 

Dionysius  of  Alexandria,  374;  of  Hkilca* 

nassus,  49. 
Discipline.    See  Church. 
Dispersion,  the,  congregations  of,  86. 
Dioscurus,  369. 

Divorce,  introduction  of,  Into  Rome,  W. 
Docetists,  346. 
Domitian,  128,  237,  252, 333. 
DomitiuB,  132. 
Domna.    See  Julia. 
Dorystera,  466. 

Druid  worsliip  extenninsted,  10. 
Druidess,  898. 

East,  the,  17, 19,  20, 25, 42.    Bee  OriettL 

Easter,  389. 

Ecclesiasticism.    See  Church. 

Edessa,  mission  centre,  219. 

Educa,  31. 

Egypt,  32,  56,  83,  86,  127,  855,  376;  m«- 

terialistic  tendency  of  its  religion,  82; 

animal  gods  of,  66. 
Eifel,  the,  113. 

Elagabalus,  310,  315,  334, 859  sq. 
Elder.    See  Presbyter. 
Eleusis,  98, 161,  323. 
Elis,  59. 


Emperors,  Age  of  the :  its  materialism, 
32;  the  Julian,  140;  the  soldier,  146; 
worship  of,  56  sg.,  233 ;  principles  whlok 
led  them  to  persecute,  234-230. 

Empusa,  316. 

England,  16. 

Ennius,  285. 

Ephesus,  17,  59,  83,  832,  862,  468,  tfTj 
seven  sleepers  of,  446. 

Epictetus,  on  happiness,  70. 

Epona,  82. 

Ergastula,  the,  186. 

EsuB,  39. 

Euripides,  140. 

Europe,  19. 

Eusebius,  338,  860, 426  99.,  430. 

Fabian,  67. 

FabianxiB,  868. 

Family,  the,  97  sq.t  174  «f. 

Fasts,  171. 

Faleria,  43. 

Farinus,  31. 

Faustina,  274. 

Felicitas,  41,  857  sq. 

Fetish,  a,  Nero's  worship  of,  fSL 

Fidenza,  195. 

Flavla,  the  gens,  89. 

FUvia  DomitillA,  262. 


504 


niDSx. 


Flavianns,  376. 

Flavius  Clemexui,  262  so, 

Flavius  Fhilostratus.   Bee  PhUoBWatm. 

Florence,  106. 

Florus,  132. 

Forculufl,  31. 

Forum,  the,  147. 

France,  47, 118. 

Franks,  861. 

Freedmen :  their  pemioiotis  influence  on 

Ron\an  society.  139  8q. 
Friediander,  123; 

Fronto,  228,  269  sq.,  272,  286  «^.,  294. 
Fucinus,  lake  of,  128. 
Fulminatat  292. 
Fulvia,  the  genSt  89. 

GabiniuB,  106. 

G^latia,  468. 

Galen,  76, 116. 

Valerius,  895,  403,  406-419,  422  9q.,  427, 
472. 

Galileans  (Christians),  466,  469,  472  aq. 

Gallienus,  313,  376. 

Gallus,  Emperor,  373. 

Gallua,  brother  of  Julian,  455,  458. 

Games,  public,  119-131,  434;  importance 
of,  in  ancient  life,  119  sq. ;  renounced  by 
the  early  Christians,  229  sq. 

Gaul,  18,  19,  25,  60,  66,  83,  106,  811,  412, 
458  8q.,  475.    Gauls,  the,  63. 

Genesius,  169. 

Gentiles,  the,  87. 

Oemiflectentes,  389. 

Germanicus,  317. 

Germany,  47, 146. 

Germans,  26, 104,  861,  396,  443,  458  Bq. 

Geta,  320,  358. 

Getulius,  262. 

Gladiatorial  sports,  190. 

Glykon,  319. 

Gnosticism,  338,  344-349. 

Golden  Ass,  320  sq. 

Gospel,  the,  148. 

Goths,  311,  362,  373,  395. 

Gracchi,  the,  71. 

Greece,  ".8,  23,  25,  26,  32,  45,  59,  66,  71,  72, 
83,  89,  90,  97,  130,  470;  its  influence  on 
Rome,  19  sq.:  in  promoting  unbelief, 
34,47. 

Greeks,  the,  their  worship,  33  sq.,  98; 
fickleness,  47 ;  conception  of  the  other 
world,  73;  early  purity,  97;  ignorance 
of  true  family  life,  98 ;  importance  to 
them  of  the  theatre,  120;  lack  of  hu- 
mility, 144. 

Greek  language,  its  prevalence,  20 ;  reli- 
gion, 45;  idealized  Nature,  33;  human- 
ized its  deities,  34. 

Hades,  74. 

Hadrian,  68,  262  sq.,  265, 273,  275,  280. 

Ham,  descendants  of,  97. 

Heathenism,  multiplicity  of  its  deities, 
29 ;  its  homogeneity,  36 ;  causes  of  its 
strength  in  the  Roman  Empire,  41  sq.  ; 
its  centre  of  religious  unity,  60;  de- 
manded new  gods,  65;  its  bankruptcy, 


73;  its  hoi>eIeB8nesB,  75,  90;  ita  great 
defect,  130,  143  sq. ;  re-action  of,  148| 

308-335. 
Heaven,  a  heathen,  821. 
HeceboliuB,  457. 
Hegesippus,  253. 
Helena,  432,  447. 
Hellenists,  457. 
Herbart,  130. 
Hercules,  36,  129;   Pillan  of,  16;  WMV 

shipped,  36. 
Here,  34. 

Hermes  Paytnuphis,  88. 
Hesiod,  346. 
Hierocles,  404, 407. 
Hilaria,  314. 
Hilarianus,  410. 
Hippolytus,  323. 
Homer,  70,  72,  73, 114,  848, 480. 
Horace,  87, 101. 

lazyges,  292. 

Ida,  Mount,  86. 

Ignatius,  262. 

Ilium.    See  New  Ittum, 

Illyrians,  362. 

lUuminism,  92. 

Immortality,  belief  in,  67,  73  aq^  dlsbe^ 

lief  in,  75  sq. ;  influence  of  the  ChristLui 

assurance  of,  77, 155  sq. 
India,  127,  220. 
Infanticide,  practice  of,  101. 
Influence  of  the  Church.    See  Church, 
Inscriptions,  16,  38,41,  43,  44,  56,  67,  76, 

98, 104, 124, 125, 272-275, 815,  820  8q.»  480. 
Irenseus,  352. 
Isaiah,  80. 

Isis,  63,  65,  314, 322  sq.,  325. 
Isidorus,  C.  Caecilius  Claudius,  135. 
Israel,  80;   its  mission   twofold,  81  aq. 

See  Judaism. 
Italy,  15, 19,  25,  83, 106, 137,  414,  424  aq.t 

Japhetic  nations,  the,  97. 

Jerusalem,  38,  60,  86,  104,  239,  232  aq.^ 
262,  369,  442. 

Jesus,  222,  252,  262,  297  aq.  See  Christ, 
Carpenter,  Nazarene. 

Jewish  Christians,  254 ;  theology  of,  346. 

Jews,  60,  63,  65,  83,  245,252,  296;  heathen 
expectation  of  their  supremacy,  80; 
their  dispersion,  81  sq. ;  their  chief 
business,  84;  privileges  of,  ib.,  85;  reli- 
gious unity,  85 ;  hated,  86  sq.  /influence 
of,  87  sq.;  persecuted  the  Christians, 
239. 

Judaism,  80,  81-91,  253  sq.,  298. 

Judas,  brother  of  James,  grandsona  ofj 
253. 

Julia,  94. 

Julia  Domna,  278,  333;  Msrea,  333;  Mam 
maea,  333,  359. 

Julian,  442  sq.,  447,  450,  4/>6-477. 

Juliana,  360. 

Julian  house,  the,  142. 

Junius  Rusticus,  290  sq.,  294. 

Juno,  34,  36, 38, 43, 325. 


INDEX. 


505 


Jupiter,  34,  36,  36,  39,  46,  65,  T8,  144,  t52, 
292,  3^3,  399,  4\J;  Ammon  Aiiubis,  i8. 

Justin  Martyr,  260,  265-268,  281,  290  sq., 
363;  his  conversion  to  Christianity, 
156  sq.  ;  description  of  Christian  wor- 
ship, 162,  163;  testimony  to  Christian 
conduct,  166, 167. 

Juvenal,  53,  57,  84,  86»  101, 123,  247,  814. 

Kephro,  374. 
KrioboUum,  322. 

labarum,  425,  432. 

Lactantius,  on  benevolence,  198. 

Laity,  351. 

Lamia,  316. 

Lanista,  the,  126. 

Lanuvium,  inscription  from,  487. 

Lapsed,  treatment  of  the,  340,  343,  877  aq. 

Larissa,  264,  321. 

Lases,  45. 

Latin  language,  its  diffusion,  20. 

Laurentius,  201,  374  sq. 

Laws  against  the  Christians,  255,  257,294, 
365, 373, 374, 393, 405, 408, 410  aq.,  438  sq., 
466,  468  sq. ;  general  laws  employed 
against  them,  237,  490;  favoring  Chris- 
tianity and  against  Heathenism,  418, 
428,  431-436,  441,  452  sq. 

Legacy -hunting,  103. 

Lent,  389. 

Leonides,  356. 

Leontopolis,  83. 

Libanius,  453,  458,  473;  testimony  to 
Christian  women,  182. 

Liber,  Father,  41. 

Liberty,  religious,  392  aq. 

Libya,  85. 

Licinius,  423,  431,  438,  440,  447. 

Limentinus,  31. 

Livy,  53,  63, 64;  on  the  state  of  morals  in 
Rome,  95. 

Locutinus,  31. 

Logos-Doctrine  of  Justin  Martyr,  268. 

LolUa  Paulina,  100. 

Londinium,  19. 

Lord's  Day,  339.    See  Sunday. 

Lord's  Prayer,  389. 

Lord's  Supper,  163,  372,  374,  378,  386,  388. 

Louis  XIV.,  142. 

Love-feast  {Agape),  228,  257,  358. 

Lucian,  270,  318-320,  324-326,  333;  his 
testimony  as  to  the  state  of  morals  in 
Rome,  95. 

Lucina,  31. 

Lucina,  St.,  222. 

Lucius,  323. 

Lucius,  Bishop  of  Rome,  868. 

Lucretius,  47,  49,  51,  76. 

Lugdunum  (Lyons),  294  aq. 

Luke,  469. 

Lutetia  (Paris),  317. 

Lydia,  83. 

Lyons,  24.    Bee  Lngdimum, 

Madaura,  320. 
Marcella,  356,  455. 
Marcelliis,  406  <g. 


Marcla,  856. 

Marcion,  199. 

Marcomannl,  280. 

Marcus  Aurelius  .intoninus,  45, 121, 12S, 

148,  264  gq.,  269  aq.,  272,  276,  278  aq.^ 

287,  293  sq.,  306  aq.,  309,  311,  319;   OB 

Christianity,    284.      See    Meditation$t 

Church. 
Marie  Antoinette,  necklace  of,  100. 
Marinus,  376. 
Marriage,  in  Antiquity,  97  aq. ;  inflaenc* 

of  Christianity  upon,  174-178. 
Mars,  36,  45. 
Marseilles,  19. 
Martial,  24. 
Martyrdom,  205-213. 
Martyrs,  the,  honored  the  Emperor  and 

the  laws,  206,  207;  spirit  toward  their 

persecutors,  208,209;  the  Scillitan,  208; 

not  fanatics,  210;   their  steadfiastneM, 

212,  213.    See  Church. 
MfiBcenas,  Tower  of,  244. 
MsBsa.    See  Julia. 
Magic,  316-321. 
Mamas,  455. 
Mammsea.    See  Julia. 
Mary,  wife  of  Cleophas,  262. 
Matemus,  Julius  Firmicus,  quoted,  4ftL 
Matthew,  the  apostle,  469. 
Maxentius,  413,  423-426,  429,  431. 
Maximian,  413  aq. 

Maximinus  Daza,  317, 414,  419, 423, 481  «f. 
Maximinus  the  Thracian,  360. 
Maximus,  457. 
Medea,  46. 
Meditations  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  270,  STd^ 

282-285,  287. 
Mediterranean,  the,  14. 
MeUto,  13,  59,  294,  296. 
Melytta,  32. 
Menander,  44. 
Mesopotamia,  280. 
Messalina,  95,  96. 
Metras,  369. 

Middle  Ages,  the,  146, 147. 
Milan,  edict  of,  399, 427-429, 4SL 
Miletus,  453. 
Miltiades,  265,  296. 
Milvlan  Bridge,  the,  241,  428,  431. 
Mimus,  the,  120. 
Minucius  Felix,  265 ;  the  Octaviua  of,  224, 

266. 
Miracles,  their  continuance,  169. 
Missions,  means  of  diffusing  Christianity. 

220. 
Mithras,  63,  314  aq.,  324,  331,  836. 
Moloch,  32.     -     • 
Monotheism,  51  aq. ;  its  Bui>eriority  totlM 

heathen  cults,  88. 
Montanus,  martyr,  376. 
Montanus,  Montanism,  338,  342-d44. 
Morals,  state  of,  in  ancient  heathenism, 

92-149;  of  the  early  Christians,  166-lWt 
Moses,  86. 

Musculus,  Titus  Lollius,  67. 
Mutilation,  416. 

Mysteries,  the,  298,  822>S2«,  83t. 
Mythology,  828. 


506 


ESTDEX. 


Nationality,  its  significance  before  and 
after  Christ,  22. 

Nazarene,  476  aq. 

NeoplatonlBm,  32&-330,  880,  400,  403  aq., 
407,  416,  454,  457. 

Neptune,  32. 

Nero,  55,  57,  61,  62,  63,  71,  80,  93, 103, 115, 
116,  123, 136,  275,  393;  progress  of  Hel- 
lenism under,  19 ;  Golden  House  of.  111 ; 
law  of,  against  pulling  down  houses  for 
speculation,  112 ;  his  interest  in  public 
games,  119;  persecution  under,  237, 
247-252. 

Nerva,  253,  273. 

New  Ilium,  463. 

NlcflBa,  creed  of,  449,  463. 

Nlcomedia,  20,  396,  407,  409,  412,  432,  442, 
463,  457,  470. 

Nihilism,  51. 

Nile,  the,  15,  20,  32,  66;  cataracts  of,  15. 

Noah,  88. 

Numerianus,  398. 

Numidia,  357. 

Numidlcus,  370. 

Nundina,  31. 

Octavia,  246. 

Octavian,  106. 

Octaviua,  the,  223  sq.,  266. 

(Eta,  Mount,  129. 

Officers  of  the  Church.    See  Church. 

Olives,  Mount  of,  442. 

Oneirocriiica,  318. 

Orantes,  389. 

Orbana,  31. 

Orestes,  46. 

Orient,  the :  insufficiency  of  its  cults,  89. 
See  Bast. 

Origen,  297,  304,  352  «g.,  356,  360,  366,  391 
gq. ;  on  alms-^ving,  200 ;  on  early  mis- 
sion-work, 220. 

Orontes,  the,  20,  66,  314,  473. 

Orphans,  202. 

Osiris,  myth  of,  82. 

Otho,  112. 

Ovid,  43,  54, 101, 129. 

PsBtus,  Thrasea,  49. 

Paganism,  its  worship  destitute  of  devo- 
tion, 161;  a  State -religion,  236.  See 
ffeathenism. 

Palatine,  the,  71. 

Palestine,  20,  81,  83,  90, 122. 

Palladium,  the,  66,  315. 

Pan,  43. 

Pandateria,  252. 

Pantsenus,  265. 

Panthera,  298. 

Pantheus,  313,  316. 

Paraclete,  the,  342. 

Paris,  19,  39.    See  Lutetta. 

Parthians,  280,  293. 

Patrae,  45. 

Paul,  the  apostle,  68,  77,  93, 108, 148, 161, 
185,  219,  222,  238,  242,  249. 

Paulus,  martyrdom  of,  209. 

PedaniuB  Seeundus,  136, 187. 

Pegasius,  468. 


Penelope,  97. 

People,  Church  of  the.    See  Okitreh, 

Pergamus,  Pergamum,  69, 261. 

Pericles,  97. 

Perpetua,  357-359. 

Persecutions.    See  Church. 

Persians,  the,  361  sq.,  376    896,  458  9$^ 

470,  473-475. 
Persius,  101. 
Pertinax,  273. 
Peter,  the  apostle,  219,  249. 
Peter,  martyr,  409. 
Petronius,  30,  48,  49. 
Pharisees,  the,  88. 
Phidias,  71. 
Philip,  the  Arabian,  860, 865 ;  the  AsIarell^ 

289  sq. 
Philippi,  89. 

Philo,  on  the  Roman  Empire,  16. 
Philosophy,  its  growth  in  power,  146;  iti 

small  influence  upon  the  people,  148. 
Philostratus,  279,  331-334. 
Phrygia,  83,  342,  413. 
Phryne,  98,  99. 
Phylae,  38. 

Pietism.    See  Church. 
Rlate,  69. 
Pindar,  72. 
Pionius,  209. 
Placentia,  273. 
Plato,  68,  97,  192,  276,  324,  326,  831,  467; 

his  contempt  for  the  laborer,  105,  168; 

on  slavery,  132;  his  desire  for  »  revel*. 

tion,  70. 
Plautus,  43, 192. 
Pleasure,  the  fundamental  charaoieristl* 

of  ancient  life,  67. 
Pliny,  48,  49,  53,  58,  75, 116;  the  Yottnger, 

124,  223;  on  life  in  Rome,  117;  on  the 

Games,  129;  letter  to  Tr^an,  162,255; 

his  public  charities,  274  tq. 
Pollio,  Asinius,  24. 
Pontianus,  360. 
Ponticus,  296. 
Pontus,  439. 
Plotinus,  326-828. 
Plutarch,44,  74,  76,78. 
Polity.    See  Church. 
Polybius,  on  Roman  piety,  80. 
Polycarp,  208,  288-291. 
Pompeii,  113, 122, 125. 
Pompey,  30. 

Poppsea  Sabina,  61,  89, 116, 248b 
Porphyry,  330. 
Porta  Capena,  83. 
Porta  triumpnalis,  124. 
Poseidon,  festival  of,  98. 
PotamisBua,  356. 
Pothinus,  295. 
Potina,  31. 

Pozzuoli  (Puteoli),  888. 
PrsBueste,  106. 

Praetorian  Guard,  810,  814, 884» 
Praxiteles,  71,  98. 
Presbyter,  349-861. 
Priest,  361. 
PriBca,408. 
FrobQS,  268, 806. 


IKDBZ. 


607 


Procolus,  884,  866. 

Propertius,  26. 

Proselytes  of  the  gate,  88. 

Proteus,  331. 

Protoctetus  of  Csesarea,  360. 

Ptolemy  Epiphanes,  56;  Auletes,  106. 

Publius,  263  sq. 

Publius  RutiUanus,  319. 

Puden8,263;  martyr,  359. 

Puteoli,  219. 

Pythagoras,  70,  331,  334. 

I^thia,  41. 

Quadi,  282,  29i^. 
Quadratus,  265. 
Quinctilian,  53, 19b 
Quinta,  369. 

Redemption,  the  need  of,  Iclt,  78;  looked 
for  from  the  East,  79. 

Reformation,  443. 

Reformers,  348. 

Religion  in  antiquity,  29  sq.  See  Greek 
religion^  Roman  do.,  Heathenism. 

Renan,  300. 

Retiarii,  the,  125. 

Revelation,  book  of,  250. 

Rhine,  the,  18,  24, 127, 145,  469. 

Rhodes,  19. 

Rhone,  the,  207,  296. 

Roman  Empire,  its  providential  relation 
to  Christianity,  13  sq. ;  united  tLe  cul- 
tivated nations,  14;  its  roads,  15,  219; 
intercourse  in,  16;  its  uriversalism, 
21  sq. ;  spread  of  unbelief  In,  46  sq. ; 
of  the  gospel  in,  220. 

Roman  religion,  deified  the  State,  34  sq.  ; 
juridical  and  external,  35;  its  Emperor- 
worship,  38;  attempts  to  restore  it, 
54  sq. ;  consisted  of  ceremonies,  55. 

Romans,  the,  their  endowment,  15,  68;  de- 
cline, 99  sq.  ;  laws,  63, 132,  136, 141,  490. 

Rome,  13-20, 22,  24-26, 34,  35,  39, 41, 42, 44, 
45,  61,  64,  66,  67,  71,  84,  88,  90, 119,  122, 
123, 130, 135, 139, 143, 245, 315, 376, 425  sq., 
428,  431,  436,  453-455,  476;  a  Babel  of 
religions,  62  sq.  ;  number  of  Jews  in, 
83;  morals  of,  95,  99,  105  sq. ;  popula- 
tion of,  108;  its  buildings,  110  sq. ;  a 
mission  centre,  220;  Bishop  of,  262,  355, 
360,  368,  374;  Genius  of,  475. 

Romula,  407. 

Romulus,  49. 

Rosmerta,  39. 

Rousseau,  71. 

Rufinus,  67. 

Rumina,  31. 

Rusticus.    See  Junhu. 

RutiUanus.    See  Publiut. 

Sabazius,  322. 

Sabbath,  the  Jewish,  Roman  observance 

of,  63;  ridicule  of,  86. 
Sabma,  the  martyr,  213.    See  Foppcea, 
Salona,  399,  413. 
Samnites,  the,  125. 
Bamosata,  324. 
Sardinia,  866, 868. 


Bardie,  18. 

Sarmatians,  409. 

Saturn,  79,  369. 

Saturninus,  369. 

Saturus,  359. 

Saviour,  the,  148. 

ScsBVola,  Mucins,  129. 

Scepticism  in  the  RonuBi  Empire,  61  Sf-t 
71. 

Scipios,  the,  71. 

Scriptures,  reading  of,  in  GhristlanhomMt 
183. 

Scythia,  220. 

Sebaste,  439. 

Senate,  the  Roman,  94,  96;  856,  863,  366, 
395 

Peneca,  50,  61,  70,  74,  94, 100, 101,103, 109, 
115, 117, 129,  141,  144,  148,  194,  331;  on 
the  aim  of  philosophy,  72 ;  on  suicide, 
73;  on  human  depravity,  77,  78;  on  the 
Jews,  87;  ethical  essays  of,  93;  on 
tranquillity,  93,  118;  on  heathen  mo- 
rality, 95. 

Septimius  Severus,  110,  276,  278,  310,  313, 
333  sq.,  356. 

Serapis,  38,  64,  65,  314. 

Serenus  Annseus,  93,  94, 118. 

Severus.    See  Septimius,  Alexander. 

Sextus  Empiricos,  61. 

Sicily,  83. 

Simeon,  262. 

Simonides,  72. 

Sirona,  39. 

Sixtus  II.,  201,  3'^4. 

Slavery,  ancient,  131  sq.,  435;  effects  ef, 
138  sq. ;  held  to  be  necessary,  141; 
Christianity  and,  184  sq. ;  its  ameliora- 
tion, 27b  sq. 

Smyrna,  17. 

Socrates,  69,  98, 144,  324  sq. 

Solon,  106. 

Sophocles,  72, 120,  324. 

Sositheus,  132. 

Spain,  15, 18, 19, 45, 50,  59, 83, 105, 124, 87f. 

Sparta,  45,  59. 

Spectacles,  public.    See  Games. 

Speratus,  357. 

State,  the,  dependence  on  religion,  14*. 
See  Church. 

Stoicism,  its  mediating  theology,  61;  iti 
exclusiveness,  148. 

Stoics,  the,  70, 140, 144,  283  sq.,  326. 

Strabo,  52;  on  the  necessity  of  supersti. 
tion,  50 ;  on  the  Jewish  dispersion,  83. 

Strauss,  303  sq. 

Suetius  Certus,  126. 

Suetonius,  79,  241,  242,  252. 

Sulla,  106. 

Sunday,  162,  435.    See  LorcPs  Day, 

Switzerland,  25. 

Svene,  38. 

Symbolum,  389. 

Synagogues,  the,  85,  219. 

Syria,  18,  32,  45,  66,  83, 113, 207, 266, 470. 

Tacitus,  18,  26,  76,  79,  104,  137,  220,  228, 
246  sq.,  251  sq. ;  his  faith  in  the  gods,  49; 
on  the  Jews,  86;  on  sabbatical  year,  ik. 


508 


INDEX* 


TaglB.  401  $g 

ralmud,  254. 

Tangiers,  405. 

fapobrane,  30. 

Tartarus,  74. 

Tarvus,  39. 

Tatian,  157,  268,  293. 

Taurobohum,  322,  325 

Taurus  in  Cilicia,  83. 

Telesphorus,  262. 

Temple,  the  Jewish,  104,  262. 

Terence,  144. 

Terminalia,  408. 

Terracina,  274. 

Tertullian,  52,  100,  123,  157,  259-261,  264, 
269  8q.,  277,  292,  334,  338,  353,  391  sg. 
on  the  AgapoB,  163;  on  the  conduct  of 
the  Christians,  167, 168 ;  eulogy  of  Chris- 
tian marriage,  175  sq.;  on  luxury  in 
dress,  178  eg. ;  on  the  public  showSi  189, 
190;  on  liberty  in  giving,  199;  on  the 
law-abiding  spirit  of  Christians,  207. 

Thascius  Cyprianus.    See  Cyprian. 

Thebaid,  369. 

Themistocles,  97. 

Theophilus,  207,  266. 

Thessalonica,  89, 264. 

Thirty  Tyrants,  the,  395. 

Thomas,  the  apostle,  ItSH. 

Thrace,  466. 

Thracians,  the,  126. 

Thucydides,  469. 

Thule,  25. 

Tiber,  the,  83, 184,  814,  4KI. 

llberiiu,  54,  98.  M. 


Tigellinus,  103,  246. 

Tigris,  474,  477. 

Titus,  80,  121,  123, 195. 

Tortures,  317,  379,  410  ^.,  416. 

Toulouse,  369. 

Tradition.    See  Church. 

Trajan,  58,  121,  127,  236,  237,  255,  JWl  #.7., 

264,  272-274,  287,  292,  356,  365,  398;  hla 

rescript  to  Pliny,  240,  257  sg. 

TJlpian,  276. 
Ulysses,  73. 
Utica.  376. 

Valeria,  402 ;  the  gena,  89 

Varro.  50.  132. 

Veleia,  273. 

Versailles,  court  of,  143 

Vespasian,  55. 

Vesta,  65,  78,  315. 

Vestals,  the,  64, 62, 126. 

Victoria,  78,  368. 

Victory,  statue  of,  446. 

Vienne,  294,«<7.,459. 

Virgil,  54, 58, 114;  the  Fourth  Eclogue,  80. 

Vitellms,  112,  113. 

"Women,  low  estimate  of,  in  antiquity, 
97  sq.,  177  sg. ;  simplicitjr  of  Christian, 
178  ag. ;  bene'^olence  enjoined  on,  19>: 
Improved  position  of,  271  aq. 

Worship,  family,  183.    See  Church 

60,  T2. 


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